Not Quite the Lord of the Rings
by Lothithil
Summary: An experimental crossover between Stargate SG1 and the world of JRR Tolkien. Jack and the gang come to Middle earth and meet a singular elf, then bring her home. See both worlds through new eyes. On hiatus.
1. Chapter 1 Another World

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Part One, Another World **

_'How many times have I taken this step?'_ Jack O'Neill wondered to himself as his molecules were hurling through sub-space. Alice's rabbit-hole; a vortex of sensory confusion, as psychedelic as anything he had seen or done in the '70; and this trip never, ever, got old. He might be more prepared now-a-days, when he mounted that metal-grid ramp and stepped into the not-icy, rippling Event Horizon, but he still felt a bite of the fear and excitement that he felt that first trip to Abydos. Only now he was no longer accompanied by the forlorn, masochistic hope for death and peace that the loss of his son had caused in him.

His mind skirted that painful memory; he was about to step out of the Gate on a strange world and he could not afford to be distracted by personal thoughts. With a practiced mental shrug he shifted his attention back to business, and with a hop and a bounce he came out of the wormhole alert and ready for anything.

Teal'c was already moving away from the Gate, ahead of Daniel and Carter and O'Neill. The others fanned out and explored the immediate area around the Stargate. There were no immediate perceivable threats.

Jack took off his cap and turned around slowly. No one had said a word since their arrival, and after the first scrutiny of this world, they simply stood looking around with a kind of stunned admiration.

"I have seen trees and then more trees," Jack said finally, shaking his head, "but I guess I have never really seen trees before now. And is that a _**new**_ shade of green?" The sarcasm usually present in the Colonel's voice was absent now. All of the team felt the same way: awed and overwhelmed.

"I have never seen anything quite like this world before, O'Neill," commented Teal'c. Usually he reserved his observations until they were requested, but even this well-traveled Jaffa was impressed.

"It kind of reminds me of the world of the Nox," said Daniel, staring upward at the towering foliage like a country boy on his first trip to New York. "It all seems... I dunno... richer, somehow. Fresher. I don't know the word for it..."

"Well, there's a wonder," Jack said dryly. "Daniel... at a loss for a word!"

Daniel limited his retort to an annoyed glance at his friend.

Carter grinned at her CO and placed a placating hand on Daniel's shoulder. "I know what you mean, Daniel."

"It's like the air has never been breathed before, and yet everything feels old-- ancient." Daniel placed his hand on one of the trees. The silvery bark was smooth and warm. "It feels alive," he said with wonder in his voice.

"All I can say is, I can't think of this place as a string of letters and numbers. We ought to name it." Jack said. "I say we call it 'Minnesota II'." Carter and Daniel laughed, and Teal'c smiled eloquently. From Jack O'Neill, there could come no higher praise.

Carter turned her attention away from the vibrant surroundings, examining the DHD and the Stargate. "This is strange, sir. This dial home device is in pristine condition; it and the Gate could have been set here yesterday."

"Strange," agreed O'Neill. He moved to examine the base of the platform upon which the Gate stood. He could find no evidence of digging or footprints that might suggest activity around the artifact.

"I'll see your 'strange' and raise you a 'whoa'," Daniel said. He was standing several feet into the trees, looking out on what appeared to be a valley. The Gate was located on a shallow plateau, set in a slightly-sunken dell, surrounded by forest. A break in the trees revealed a vista for the travelers' eyes.

"Whoa!" The team stood side-by-side, taking in the view. A purple range of mountains marched away from them, the peaks smudged with clouds and distance. Blue-green forests coated the mountain's sides, thick as fur right up to the tree line, where the bones of the mountains suddenly ran bare, and the granite gleamed in the sun and sparkled with glaciers that ran like frozen lightning upon the stone.

After another unabbreviated silence of appreciation, O'Neill found his voice first. "I think I should build a summer home here."

"I can't believe this world is unpopulated," said Daniel. "It's just too beautiful."

"The UAV didn't find any sign of civilization, but that doesn't mean it's uninhabited," Carter said.

"Yeah, Stargates don't grow on trees, you know," Jack said, missing the scathing glare from Daniel because he was lifting his binoculars to his eyes. "I can see a path down into the valley. It may be nothing more than a game-trail, but let's check it out after we dial home and report. Daniel."

Daniel nodded and moved to the DHD. He regarded the device for a moment, and then began to select the symbols that represented Earth's position in the Stargate network. His hand paused as he chose the last symbol, then he placed his hand on the red jewel in the center and pressed firmly.

The Gate fountained toward them, sunlight sparking off of the water-illusion that was the newly created wormhole. Never had it seemed so spectacular to them. O'Neill had to pause and clear his throat before he could radio his report.

* * *

O'Neill rejoined his team after completing his report. They stood watching out over the valley, while Teal'c was scanning the surrounding trees, his face intent and curious. O'Neill paused beside him and cocked his head.

"What is it, T?"

"I do not know," rumbled the jaffa in response. "I feel as though we are being observed, and yet I feel no threat. This place is very strange indeed."

"Well, I got our orders. You take point, T. We'll do a box survey and come back around to the Gate by nightfall. Hammond wants us home for supper, apparently."

"Couldn't you talk him into letting us stay?" asked Daniel. "We won't find much in such a short amount of time."

"If we find anything, we'll be sent back."

"Humph! They'll send some other team to explore, and we'll get sent to the next Gate address on the roster," groused the younger man.

"Hey, Daniel. You're an archeologist. I'd think you'd prefer to be poking around ruins or talking to natives than roaming around in a primordial forest." O'Neill turned his face away to shield the wink he flicked at Carter. She gave him a sunny grin as she shouldered her pack. "Come on, kids! Keep your eyes open and watch out for toadstool rings!"

_next part introduces our DarkElf, as she espies these travelers though the leaves where she's been hiding!_


	2. Chapter 2 From An Elven Perspective

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Part two, From An Elven Perspective **

The senses of an Elf are not limited to eyes and fingers and ears. What it was that drew me to that glade that morning was more than a smell or a feeling, though I wouldn't go so far as to claim prescience; I am but a humble warrior, not a wizard.

I stretched out along the bough of a sturdy tree and watched the movements of the people that had appeared through the water-curtain. They were strangely clad and strangely mannered, yet their voices rang out true and fair, and I was surprised that I could mostly understand their language. The tongue of the Eldar had much changed since the time of Awakening, for the Powers in the West had taught my people other ways, and in mingling with our folk They had introduced new words and concepts of language. The language these Men used was more like unto the speech used before the Great Migration; still, many of their words were alien to my ears. Also, they structured their statements weirdly, but I could understand them well enough, I felt.

Of the race of Men these must be, I decided. No Elf would make such a noise walking through a wood, and of the ill-get of the Dark One they could not be, for the bright Sun rode overhead and scorched them not, nor did they give off the air of pestilence and hatred one perceives from such.

The strange tools they carried were of no make that I could discern. Not Dwarvish, unless the smiths of Belegost had indeed surpassed the Noldori in their designs. Certainly not machinations of the Dark One; there was no reek of corruption from them. By the way the tall one held the object in his hands, I knew it must a weapon of some sort, though I could not tell how it might function. The powerfully build dark-skinned one held a long staff in such a way that suggested one should keep a respectful distance.

The people were as odd as their tools, and as different as the leaves upon the trees. I followed as they began to descend into the vale, staying in the trees where I knew that they would not easily see me. They were alert and organized. I could tell simply by the way they moved that they could think and move as one entity.

The staff-bearer caught my eye first, for a formidable foe he would be deemed by any race. Vast and graceful, his stature and bearing reminded me of the smiths of Gondolin, but his skin was so dark that it was as if he stood in shadow even under the light of the Sun. Still, he was different than any Orc or Troll that I had ever seen, and he smelled like neither. He led the group, keeping several paces ahead as they followed, scouting the area for hidden dangers.

Next came a fair man, and I knew not what to think of him at all. He was dressed as the others, but his face shone with an inner light, as if his mind burned behind the strange circles he wore over his eyes. His movements spoke of curiosity and interest, and he was a little clumsy as he walked through the woods, stumbling because he could not keep his eyes from roaming.

Behind him came a female warrior, and long I looked upon her with interest. Her hair was very fair and her features were delicate. She, too, had a light in her eyes, but guarded; she was more cautious than her fair-haired companion.

Walking in the rear came the tall man. His demeanor suggested idle interest in his surroundings, but his stature and bearing declared him to be a dangerous man, perhaps more dangerous than his other three companions together. On his face he wore an opaque visor; I could not deem the colour of his eyes.

As they walked, the man in the rear declared something loudly, setting off reactions of amusement among his companions. The dark-skinned one merely smiled, but somehow this was as loud and merry to me as the bell-like laughter of the woman.

It was the sound of their humour that laid my suspicious heart to rest at last. That and the careful way they moved, making little track and avoiding unnecessary damage to the forest. It was more than that they wanted to leave no obvious trail; they were respectful of the trees and plants. This above all else spoke to me of their goodness.

I decided to follow them, to learn more and perhaps to speak to them. I had to move carefully. The dark-skinned one had sharp ears, and he looked toward me occasionally as if he could detected me, and the tall man seemed to be able to feel eye tracks upon his skin.


	3. Chapter 3 First Contact

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
part three, First Contact **

The short hairs on the back of Jack O'Neill's neck were standing up; it took every ounce of his military discipline not to turn around and look back. They were being followed, just as Teal'c had suspected. Whoever or whatever it was, it was damned stealthy.

At the first turning in their survey, O'Neill called a halt. The four of them shed their packs and stretched. The Elf that had been so carefully following them squatted down in the bushes, unperceived though their eyes passed over her. O'Neill wandered away to the right, speaking something about 'attending to the call'. Teal'c moved off in the other direction as if to investigate a thicket of young trees. Morlothiel was about to follow O'Neill when the activity of the last two members of the team attracted her attention.

"What is that, Sam?" Daniel knelt down on the grass, peering intently at something on the ground.

Sam leaned over to take a look, then hunkered down next to him. "I've never seen anything like it." She extended her hand as if to touch it, but Daniel grabbed her arm and held her.

"No! What if it's dangerous?"

"It doesn't look dangerous. It's pretty." Sam leaned closer to see better. Her head completely blocked Morlothiel's view of the object of interest.

"Too pretty, if you ask me," Daniel answered, pulling Sam back.

Morlothiel's interest was peaking. She craned her neck, trying to see around the crouching figures of Daniel and Sam. What could have caught their attention so? But try as she might, she couldn't see anything.

Daniel let go of Sam's arm when she threatened to break off his fingers. She reached down to pick something up, then suddenly let out a cry of surprise and pain.

"Sam! Oh, my god..." Daniel threw himself down beside where the woman had fallen. Alarmed, Morlothiel stood up, drawing her sword. Whatever it was, she could not leave these two to be injured while their warriors were away. She came out of the swath of grasses where she had been hiding, prepared to fight.

There came no more warning than the sound of a shadow, and suddenly the Elf was surrounded. Teal'c and O'Neill were behind her and to each side, and Daniel and Sam were now standing in front of her. All except Daniel held an intimidating object in their hands. Morlothiel froze.

Large grey eyes fixed upon O'Neill, and the tip of the gleaming sword dropped toward the ground. In a clear voice, Morlothiel spoke, "To cause harm to your companions is not my intention."

"I know. We don't want to hurt you, either." The black circle of the barrel of O'Neill's P90 moved slightly as he redirected the weapon. "What say we get introduced? I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill. That's Teal'c; Major Carter; Doctor Jackson."

"Daniel," said Daniel, indicating himself with his hands. "We are peaceful explorers."

Morlothiel said nothing and did not move. She held O'Neill with her gaze.

O'Neill stared back. "What?" he said finally, when no one had moved for a full minute.

"You speak for your people, but I cannot judge the truth of your words." She turned her eyes toward Carter and Daniel. "You have tricked me with falsehood into revealing myself. These are the actions of the Enemy. Yet you do not behave as His creatures do, nor have you attempted to slay me. Therefore, I will wait."

O'Neill let his P90 hang from its harness and removed his field goggles. "Look, I'm sorry we tricked you. We've had dealings with some nasty invisible creatures before, and we have to be careful."

Brown eyes. Morlothiel met them with her own. She sheathed her sword with a fluid movement, then offered them an elaborate bow. "I can see now that we are not enemies. I will therefore freely offer my names, and trust that you will use no sorcery with them." O'Neill's eyebrows shot up at this, but he said nothing. "I was called Morlothiel in the North that is now sunk beneath the sea, and Dínfaloth in the Uttermost West. You may address me as you wish."

O'Neill scrunched up his brow. "You can call me Jack. Can I call you 'Morry'? I'm kinda bad with long names..."

Morlothiel gave a small smile. "For short speech, you may call me 'Loth."

"Loth?" O'Neill tasted the name experimentally.

"Yes. The meaning of that word is far more complimentary than your first choice."

"Oh." To the surprise of his companions, a visible flush reddened O'Neill's neck. He cast a glance toward Daniel and said out of the corner of his mouth, "Did I just call her something bad?"

"I... don't know, Jack," Daniel answered, who was wracking his memory for a reference. "Not in any of the languages I know, anyway."


	4. Chapter 4 Elves Among Us

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Part four, Elves Among Us**

Jack O'Neill took a long look at Morlothiel as the others set down their gear and prepared to talk. She was about as tall as Daniel and lean as can be, dressed in clothes made mostly from animal skins. Her belt, boots, quiver, and parts of her garments, however, were well made and ornately stitched. Her sword, when Daniel asked to see it closely, was wrought of a fine metal that seemed to absorb light, and inscribed with a flowing script that not even the worldly Teal'c could recognize. She carried a longbow of dark, beautifully carved wood. The string was made from long strands of woven golden hair.

More interesting than her garments was Morlothiel herself. For one so thin she seemed quite strong, and her skin was clear and smooth. Her age was unguessable; she looked fresh and tender as a teenage girl, but she bore the confidence and wariness of a seasoned soldier. The only things that set her apart from human norm were her large, luminous eyes and her gently pointed ears. Her face held a quality of both common beauty and alienness. Her voice was the timbre of spring water running over rounded stones.

Daniel began their conversation by asking her what her people called themselves.

"I am of the Eldar."

"Elder? You don't look that old," said Daniel. When Morlothiel stared at him, he held up a placating hand. "That's a joke... a sample of Tau'ri humor."

Morlothiel smiled. "I understand. Your witticisms are not unlike those of the Dark Elves; we who enjoy the ironic as well as the absurd."

Daniel glanced over at O'Neill and, with a wink at Carter and Morlothiel, said _sotto voce_, "Looks like we've come to the right place!"

Daniel was in his element. He began asking about customs and propriety and etiquette. The Elf answered him patiently. Carter sat beside him and offered her support, but her eyes were also on the gear and clothing that Morlothiel was wearing. Though the Elf had indicated that there was little to fear with the sun shining so brightly at mid-day, Teal'c and O'Neill took up sentry positions, close enough to listen to the parley and yet see all around them clearly, or as clearly as the thick foliage permitted.

Morlothiel sat completely relaxed, looking at one of the team's P90's, which she had refused to take into her hands but had asked them to set on the grass before her. In exchange, she had offered Daniel her sword, with which he promptly cut himself.

It was a mere nick on one finger, but it bled a lot. Carter dug into her pack for a bandage and some antiseptic, but Morlothiel took Daniel's hand in her own. She spoke a string of ringing words and then breathed on the cut; whereupon the bleeding stopped and the flesh drew together, leaving a faint mark like the after-thought of a scar.

"Wow." Carter swabbed at the place where the cut had been, wiping away Daniel's blood. He winced in anticipation of the sting of antiseptic, but there was no pain. "It is completely healed!"

Morlothiel tipped her head in a short bow. "Merely a charm of the blade. It was wrought so that it would bring no harm to its wielder, nor shed the blood of friends. It was made for me by Waylan, the Smith of Forlindon."

"I know we've only just met," said Daniel, "but I like to think that we are friends."

"We are; but my sword does not know you yet. Now it does." She regarded him for a moment, then threw back her head and laughed.

"Ah, that must be a sample of Elf humor," O'Neill said in an over-loud mutter. Morlothiel acknowledged him with a regal nod.


	5. Chapter 5 Orcs vs Jaffa

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
part five, Orcs vs. Jaffa  
**

Jack waved Teal'c over, so that they could both take a closer look at Morlothiel's sword. "Your weapon is very impressive," Teal'c commented. "Once I would have said that such a thing was possible only by the magic of the gods."

"No, not magic. Magic and sorcery are the tools of the Dark One and his foul creatures. My people have a close relationship with the earth and with all things above and below." Morlothiel prodded the P90 that lay before her with a single long finger. "This metal does not speak to me, nor does it smell familiar. It must have been forged far away."

"Oh, yeah... that's an even bet," said O'Neill. He glanced at Carter and jerked his head slightly. Sam picked up her weapon and took O'Neill's place on sentry. O'Neill squatted down between Daniel and the Elf. "So, can you tell us more about your self and this place?" He ignored Daniel's dirty look, letting the flap snap shut over his watch; they were running out of time.

"I would happily tell all that you might care to hear, yet there are questions I would ask of you."

"We'll answer what we can," said Jack.

"You have come to this land to hunt; this is obvious by your caution and your weapons. What manner of beasts do you hunt?"

"Actually, we're explorers..." Daniel began to say.

O'Neill cut him off. "We are hunting Goa'uld."

"That is not a name with which I am familiar," Morlothiel said. "What are they... some kind of Orc?"

"I don't know what an 'orc' is, Loth," O'Neill said. "Do orcs have snakes in their heads?"

Morlothiel shuddered. "What a foul creature you describe!"

"There's more to it than that, Morlothiel," said Daniel. "These 'snakes' are actually symbiotic creatures-- parasites that live inside a human host. They know everything the creature they inhabit knows, and they control their bodies."

"It sounds as hideous as any shadow-creature I have seen crawling from the depths of Angband! Are these Goa'uld minions of the Dark One?" In answer to their blank looks, Morlothiel tried to elaborate.

"Not long ago, the Lords of the West came forth over the waters and vanquished Morgoth, he whom my people call the Dark One, a powerful being of the same kindred as Those Who Dwell in the West. They cast him down and banished him from this realm. It is said that They thrust him into the Outer Darkness, and there he shall remain impotent until the End of Things.

"He is gone, but many of his minions and their spawn remain. The remnants of his filthy army have scattered through these lands to save their own skins. The Dark One's lieutenant Sauron survived the destruction of Beleriand by fleeing, and he went into hiding in the East, it is said. Among those who creatures who survived are the Orcs, and they roam these lands preying on the weak, and on each other. They are savage and fierce, and they know no mercy. It would not be wise for you to remain here after the sun sets, unless there are more in your hunting party and they are as well-armed and armoured as your selves."

"You say these 'orcs' are soldiers of Morgoth?" Daniel asked. He glanced over at Teal'c and asked, "Does that name sound familiar?" To Morlothiel he said, "Our friend Teal'c is Jaffa, and he used to work for a Goa'uld called Apophis. Jaffa have long been enslaved by the Goa'uld, and often they are trained as soldiers."

Teal'c answer was, "I have not heard of any Goa'uld named 'Morgoth'. Neither have I heard of these creatures called Orcs."

Morlothiel gave Teal'c a close scrutiny. "One who is not conscious of themselves might assume that you were an Orc, friend Teal'c, but **I** can see that you are not. Orcs are hideous and uncouth, and they are possessed of an evil intelligence."

"Teal'c can be an animal before he's had his morning coffee, but he's never uncouth." Teal'c answered O'Neill's jape with an arched eyebrow, inspiring a laugh from Daniel and Carter.

Morlothiel smiled as well, enjoying the humour of these strange travelers. She continued her dialogue. "Were the Orcs no more than animals, it would make the killing of them much easier. Alas for the heart of the hunter who's heart is not in the hunt! For Orcs possess also the knowledge of their past life. They feel great loathing for what they have become, and so they act with great anger and hatred against all that has not been corrupted."

Daniel looked concerned. "Are you saying that the Orcs used to be people? That they were changed-- corrupted, as you say?"

"Aye, they were captured by Morgoth in the early years before the Sun. Elves, my brethren, from the shores of our once-home. He tortured and corrupted them, and they became Orcs. They breed now in the mountains and in the deep places where filth accumulates, and with each generation they become more wicked and despicable, the memory of their corruption their only legacy from their unfortunate ancestors. They are born to serve the Dark One whom they hate and fear, and now that he is gone, they will serve themselves in greed and violence. There is no cure for their plight but death."

"Sounds like a pretty big chore for just one... elf," Jack said.

Morlothiel received back her sword from him and sheathed it neatly. "I am more than a match for any Orc. Yet caution is always a good practice, and the Sun is making her way toward Valinor. If you wish to return through the curtain of water, you should begin now. I will guide you by the swiftest route, if you will follow me."


	6. Chapter 6 Door Without A House

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Part six, Door Without A House  
**

_'Trying to follow an Elf through a wood is only slightly less difficult than tracking a breeze across a clear sky,' _O'Neill reflected. He tried to stay as close as he could to Morlothiel, but she moved like a deer; her legs seemed to grow from the ground beneath her, and whenever she paused she disappeared against any background of trees or grass, impossible to see until she moved again. Only pride kept him from putting Teal'c at point-- pride and a desire to learn more about this fascinating person.

"We should have hung a bell on her," he muttered to Carter as they walked.

"I know some professional dancers who'd like to have her moves," Sam responded lightly.

"You know some professional dancers? Are you going to introduce m--"

"No, Sir."

The Colonel sighed as if in great disappointment, but in truth he was delighted. It had taken a long time to get Sam Carter to lighten up and play the game, but now he knew he could count on her to banter with him, giving back as good as he gave. It made even the most potentially boring off-world missions into something to anticipate.

While they walked the colours of the world deepened as the sun dipped to the serrated horizon. Twilight arrived with a sprinkling of eager stars just as they returned to the Stargate.

The Stargate was located in a dell, protected on all sides by thick belts of trees. A rill of water ran across the floor of the small depression, showing them their own footprints marking the soft ground. The gate stood gleaming in the rich violet light, the strange metal glowing like the skin of some deep-sea creature, appearing alien and yet at home in this landscape. Tenacious vines wove up and over the top of the ring, opening their pale sun-shy blossoms to the growing darkness.

"From here I know not whither the path that brought you." Morlothiel walked to the edge of the stone platform that held the ring of the gate upright. "I wonder how you came here, leaving no path to this place."

"Well," Carter came forward, somewhat hesitantly. "It's kind of complicated... when the Stargate is activated, a corridor forms between two gates outside of sub-space, allowing us to be transported instantly to our destination."

Morlothiel frowned. "It sounds like strange sorcery indeed!"

"It's not sorcery, it's science." Carter looked toward her Colonel for help. O'Neill raised his eyebrows in a 'how do you think I could explain it if you can't' expression.

Daniel came to her rescue. "It all sounds strange because of the words we must use to describe how we travel are words for which your people have not yet found a need. We came here from another place. A place far away. This is like a doorway and when we open it, it takes us to many different places, depending on which of them we chose."

Morlothiel said, "A house may have many doors and each lead to a different room. Here is no house and one door, and yet you say it leads many places? I do not understand. Where is the water from which you emerged? The stream here whispers of deep springs beneath the ground, not strange hallways between the stars."

Daniel smiled. Advanced she may not be, but Morlothiel was obviously not simple-minded. "The water is an illusion. It looks that way because it is the closest thing in our minds to what we are seeing."

Morlothiel regarded Daniel closely. "I must allow myself to accept that there is much I do not know. Not even the great smith Fëanor hath conceived such things! To travel far with one step... I would see this for myself."

Daniel sighed. "I wish that I could show you our world, Morlothiel. Maybe someday-- if we are allowed to return-- I can come back and bring you there. Right now, it would be dangerous for you to come, and our leaders would not be pleased. I wish that we could take more time here. I don't want to leave this place."

"It would be dangerous for you to stay, Daniel." Morlothiel grew tense, and everyone became aware of how quiet the forest around the dell had become. "Go quickly! We have been followed!"

O'Neill had his P90 up even as the elf-woman drew her sword. "Dial home, Daniel! We've got company!"

Figures in the darkness sprang forward and he swung his gun toward them, ready to fire. But to his alarm, Morlothiel ran forward to meet them, sword already swinging. He could not fire without risk of hitting her.

Teal'c leapt forward, swinging his staff-weapon like a club. The creatures were moving fast, and their skins and clothes were as black as the shadows from which they had emerged, but they howled and fell just as many had before as the mighty Jaffa engaged them.

O'Neill fired at one creature that leapt toward Daniel, a single burst that seemed to stop the beast more from surprise than from injury. It stared down at the hole that had appeared in it's hide, then looked up at O'Neill with a snarl and came forward, swinging a wickedly spiked cudgel.

Daniel was urgently programming the address for home. His hands flew over the curved surface of the DHD, leaving lighted symbols at each touch. The chevrons on the gate lit up and the event horizon came rushing out in a wave of electric-blue. The spectacle sent the creatures staggering back in surprise.

Morlothiel used the distraction to slay her opponent and the orc beside it. She had seen the gate come to life before, and while it was marvelous and strange to her eyes, she had business at hand and friends to protect. From the hand of one fallen orc she wrenched a short, ugly knife and threw it with deadly accuracy, piercing the throat of an orc who stood gaping at the Stargate.

O'Neill saw an opening and let go with his weapon on full-automatic. The gun stuttered loudly, spitting light and death. The rest of the orcs scattered back into the cover of the trees, yelping in alarm.

Carter rapidly entered the code on her GDO. "All clear, Sir!" she shouted, bringing up her own gun to cover the team's retreat.

"They will return swiftly with greater numbers!" Morlothiel said grimly. Her sword dripped with black blood; it covered her hands and spattered her clothes. "You should go quickly, O'Neill. It would be most dangerous for you to return, now that the orcs have found your doorway."

"We're not leaving you here to face them all alone! You're coming with us!"

Morlothiel looked toward the gate then glanced around. The glow filled the dell with shimmering light, and the gleam of red eyes was cast back from the trees; dozens of evil lamps. "I feel the desire to finish this fight, but I think I shall indeed come. Lead on!"

"LET'S GO! Daniel, Carter!" They instantly turned and ran to the gate, stepping through the rippling circle. O'Neill walked backward, navigating the steps easily as he covered his team's retreat. Morlothiel stood beside him, sword still ready and a look of curiosity and excitement on her face. "Come on, T!"

Teal'c obeyed, trusting O'Neill to cover him. As he turned toward the gate, a wave of orcs leaped from the bushes, screaming and waving their weapons. O'Neill's gun drove them back. From out of the trees came then the whine and rip of arrows tearing through leaves. The deadly rain fell around them, the flinty tips shattering against the stone of the gate and slicing through the blue surface.

When Teal'c was with them, they all stepped into the strange water together. Morlothiel threw out her arm as they staggered through and O'Neill was ready to steady her. "The first time through the gate can be disorienting... **_hey!_**"

The elf-woman had not lost her footing, however. She sagged against him, the tip of the sword that she still held tightly in her hand clanging on the metal ramp. From the center of her back protruded a black-shafted arrow.

He caught her before she could fall, supporting her so that the arrow would not do more damage. On her face a look of wonder fought with pain. From her lips came a single word, before her grey eyes closed him out:

"...B-beautiful..."


	7. Chapter 7 Telling Blood

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
part seven, Telling Blood**

The briefing room was utterly quiet except for the distant activity from the gate-control room that echoed up the stairs. When O'Neill's fingers began to drum on the tabletop, the sound was unnaturally loud. For once, nobody minded the noise. They each welcomed a distraction-- even an annoyance-- that might keep them from worrying about their wounded guest. General Hammond was leaning over a report that lay on the table before him, but since he had not turned a page in the last quarter hour, it was obvious he couldn't concentrate on what he was trying to read.

Hammond flipped the folder shut with a sigh. "Colonel, are you sure you can't tell me more about the hostiles you encountered on PME-135, and why you refer to it in your report as..." he glanced again at the inside of the folder, "... as 'Minnesota II'?"

Jack O'Neill had finally stopped fidgeting and was now staring at the red stain on the cuff of his sleeve. He'd had a moment before the briefing to wash Morlothiel's blood from his hands, but no time to change out of his fatigues. Now that he had the time, he had no urge to do so. Fraiser had barred them from the infirmary, promising to bring a report to Hammond as soon as there was anything _to_ report. He was trying not to think about anything and he appeared not to have heard his Commanding Officer's question.

"They weren't like anything we have encountered on any of the worlds we have explored so far, Sir," Sam Carter answered for her teamleader. "Morlothiel-- the indigenous person who came back with us through the Stargate-- called them 'orcs'. I can't add much to the Colonel's report, except to say that they were... well, they were very intimidating."

"Scary," Daniel submitted, draining his coffee cup. "Scary _and_ smelly."

Hammond nodded, looking toward Teal'c. He didn't expect the Jaffa to say anything, and so he was mildly surprised when the large man spoke.

"They seemed to be no more than animals, but they fought with weapons and tactics. They used great stealth in tracking us. I did not detect them."

"Don't blame yourself, Teal'c," O'Neill said without raising his eyes. "I didn't hear them either. Neither did our guide."

"Colonel." Hammond gestured for him to continue.

Jack sighed. "They caught us flatfooted, Sir. We were lucky that more of us weren't injured."

"You're luckier than you know, Colonel." Janet Fraiser stepped into the room and handed the General her written report. "If you or one of your team had been struck by an arrow like the one I just dug out of my patient, I doubt that any of you would have survived."

"How is she, Doc?" asked O'Neill, rising from his seat.

Janet gave him a guarded smile before she took the empty seat on Hammond's left. "She's alive, and I daresay she's going to recover. I'll spare you the details, but we managed to remove the arrow. It was difficult because she appears to be immune to the effects of any of our anesthetics."

Everyone winced, remembering the cruel-looking shafts and the barbed arrowheads that had rained down at them as they had fled through the gate. Jack sank into his chair again as Janet continued, "She has a great deal of fortitude, Sir, and one of the strongest, most resilient immune systems that I have ever encountered. Even better than that provided by a symbiote." Teal'c raised his eyebrows at her last statement. "There's no sign of an infection and she's healing at a rate that's nothing short of phenomenal."

"That is good news, Captain," Hammond said, noting the relief in the faces of his flagship team.

"There's more, Sir." Janet pointed at her report, which the General had opened to peruse as she spoke. "The arrows that we found in the gate-room and the one I removed from the patient were all coated with poison. Very nasty stuff, General. There is no substance on Earth like it," Janet hesitated now, and said, "or I should say, there _wasn't_ anything on Earth like it, until Morlothiel came here."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

Janet sighed. "I know this is going to sound strange, Sir, but the molecular structure of the poison has many similarities to the structure of her blood. It is possible that is why it didn't effect her as it would have any of us."

"Morlothiel said that these creatures-- these orcs-- were once like her own people but were changed... corrupted... by an evil god," Daniel shook his head. "Her story had many similarities between what we know of the jaffa and the people that the Goa'uld transplanted from Ancient Earth."

"Well, she may look quite a bit like us but I assure you, she's not human. Not even remotely. It is fortunate that she is healing so quickly, because we couldn't give her a transfusion. Her blood-type doesn't match anything we have, and hers would be toxic to us."

Jack looked up quickly. He plucked at the stains on his shirt. "_How_ toxic, Doc?"

Janet frowned at him. "I don't think that there's any danger unless you get the blood in an open wound or ingest it somehow. Still, I'd recommend that you change out of those as soon as possible. Just in case."

"Okay, people," Hammond looked around at O'Neill and his team. "You did well, considering the circumstances. Now go and get some rest. Doctor Fraiser, I'm going to station a security team with our guest until we can debrief her. How long will it be before she is strong enough?"

"I'm not sure, Sir. I'd like to keep her in the infirmary for a few days, in an iso-room. But if she continues to heal at the rate that I have witnessed, she'll be wanting out by the end of today."

"Impressive." Hammond looked at O'Neill. "Colonel, do you think you could..."

"I'm not tired, anyway, Sir. I'll be down there as soon as I get cleaned up."

"And drop those clothes off in a bio-waste bag, Colonel," Janet added. "I'd like to run some more tests, and I don't want to take anymore of her blood to do them. She has little enough left as it is."

Hammond stood up. "I'll notify you all when we schedule the next briefing. Now, get out of here, all of you," he added in a gentle growl. They scattered.

* * *

Jack expected her to be asleep when he came into the room, but Morlothiel was sitting up in her bed, looking more alert and rested than he felt himself.

"Hey. You seem to be feeling better than the last time I saw you," he said. He pointed to the chair near her bed. "May I join you?"

"That would please me. Jack O'Neill, your world is a strange place. Are there no trees or grass in this land? Where have you brought me?"

"We're inside a mountain... under it, really. This facility--er, encampment, I guess you'd say-- is a big secret, so we've hidden it underground."

Morlothiel looked around again at the smooth surfaces and sharp angles of the room. "You must have employed the most skilled of Dwarves to delve this place for you."

Jack raised both eyebrows. "Dwarves. Hmm... I wouldn't know about that. So, how do you feel? Has the Doc been treating you right?" he asked, changing the subject to safer ground.

Morlothiel smiled, and for a moment Jack was stunned. He'd seen her smile before, but somehow now she seemed to beam like a bright light. "Your healer is most skilled and gentle. I think I shall be fully recovered very soon. She insists that I remain here, even though I have said that I could leave. I would not want to deny her care to those who need it more than I."

"Don't worry... we've got plenty of other beds for anyone else who might need them. Right now, we have to make sure that you really are okay, and that none of our people accidentally make you sick. That sometimes happens when we bring someone new to our world."

Morlothiel thought about this for a while. "I have never heard of a Man sickening because of contact with an Elf, nor the Elf because of a Man. But if you think that it is wise, I shall comply."

"Thank you. It will eliminate the risk and put everyone's minds at ease. So, until Doc Fraiser gives you the all-clear, I shall be happy to sit here and answer your questions. Or, at least those questions you ask to which I know answers. Carter could probably answer more. She's a lot smarter than I am. Or so I'm told." Jack laughed to show that he was joking.

"I think that she must be very smart indeed, but you have shown your wisdom as well, Jack O'Neill. If I had not followed you to this place, I would likely have been slain. My pride and desire to destroy my enemies is sometimes greater than my own wisdom."

"Well, we all have bad days," Jack said lightly; but in truth, he found Morlothiel's words disturbing and a bit too- close- to- home for comfort.

"Tell me about the world outside of this mountain, Jack O'Neill. Tell me when I can go and see your sky and trees, and smell the wind blowing fresh through their leaves. Your people are kind, but I weary of stone walls and I long to hear the sound of water running free."

"Now that you mention it, I feel the same way. I'll see what I can do about arranging a tour after we talk to my Commanding Officer-- **if** you do me a favor and start calling me 'Jack'." Morlothiel nodded her assent. "Are you sure that you don't need to rest a bit? I would stay here with you and make sure you are safe, if you want to sleep."

Morlothiel smiled again. "Elves do not sleep, Jack. I will stay here and heal as I have promised. But I will rest lightly if you will speak with me."

"Then let me tell you about the place where I grew up. It's really beautiful, and it's called Minnesota... although now we'll have to call it 'Minnesota I'..."


	8. Chapter 8 Sights and Sounds

_Author's Note: I've never been to the Grand Canyon, so this is some wish-fulfillment for me.  
-Lothithil_

**Not Quite The Lord Of The Rings ****  
****Part eight, Sights and Sounds**

"We found her, General."

Hammond sighed, somewhere between relief and anger. "Where was she this time, Colonel?"

"On top of the mountain... again. The SF's are insisting that nobody could have gotten past their posts without being seen. In retrospect, perhaps issuing her camouflage fatigues was not the best idea."

General Hammond would have liked to have lowered his aching head and covered his eyes with his hands, but to do so would not be seeming for an officer of his stature. Instead, he pressed a button on his phone. "Sergeant, notify Security to stand down."

Walter's voice buzzed back in response, "Yes, Sir."

Colonel O'Neill was standing by the door, not so much at-ease but lounging. By the look on his face, Hammond could tell that he was enjoying the entire situation a little too much.

"What are we going to do with her, Colonel?"

"Sir?" Smirk.

"Our guest doesn't seem intent on staying on base or in the company of her escorts."

"I believe you're correct, General."

"This is the fourth time she's slipped past them. What's it going to take to keep her within bounds? We can't have aliens..."

"She's an Elf, Sir."

"... or Elves, or whatever... gallivanting around Cheyenne Mountain as if it was a theme park!"

"She's just interested in our world, Sir. If you had OK'ed my request to show her around..."

"That's very risky, Colonel. What would happen if she gave you the slip as easily as she has our SFs? How would we find her again?"

"She gave her word that she wouldn't do that. She's never gone farther than the top of the mountain, which is technically not leaving."

"Don't split hairs with me, Colonel!" Hammond was getting exasperated. "I am seriously considering sending her back to her own world immediately."

"That won't make Fraiser very happy." O'Neill said. It wouldn't make him very happy either, but he didn't say that part out-loud. "She's in seventh heaven running tests on her, now that she's all healthy again. Doc seems to think that 'Loth is hiding the secrets of accelerated healing somewhere in her DNA. And don't even get her started on the subject of longevity..." O'Neill puffed his cheeks out and shook his head, but he did not entirely surrender the grin he had been wearing since he entered Hammond's office.

"This is not a research facility, Colonel."

"I know that, Sir."

"I know you know that." Hammond added in a softer voice, "Jack, I half-expect to hear from the NID any moment now, wanting us to hand over all documents and materials pertaining to our guest. They're going to have the same ideas as Doctor Fraiser, but we both know where that will lead to if Morlothiel remains here much longer."

The smile dropped off of O'Neill's face. "They can't do that, Sir. She agreed to participate with Fraiser, not anyone else. She won't even let Carter stay in the room. They can't force her to participate with the NID if she doesn't want to."

"You know that they will try and if they manage to get over my head, then they can have us ordered to comply. Our mandate is exploration and acquisition, not research and development, as Colonel Mayborne has made clear on previous occasions."

"With all due respect to yourself, General, Mayborne may be right about our mandates... but that doesn't make him any less of a _putz_."

Hammond gave up a half-smile. "I agree. So I am going to concede on one point and permit you to escort our guest off-base for a short trip..."

"Thank you, Sir!"

"... With the rest of SG-1 as a security measure, plus I have to insist that wherever you go, she must conceal her... aspects... so that she appears as human as possible."

"Delicately stated, Sir. And thank you, Sir. I'm sure that we'll be able to handle everything satisfactorily."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you sure this is such a good idea, Sir?"

"At ease, Carter. It'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure..."

"Will you relax? After all the trouble we had getting her in the truck, this should be a cinch."

"That is not a very compelling argument, Colonel."

Teal'c was listening to O'Neill and Carter while keeping his sharp eyes on Daniel and Morlothiel. The Elf and the Archeologist were some ways down the trail, talking animatedly about the structure of the rocks and how they were formed. The Jaffa suspected that while Sam Carter's trepidation was understandable, O'Neill was nevertheless correct concerning Morlothiel's adventurous spirit. He said nothing, content to watch events unfold.

Morlothiel's trip to the Grand Canyon had been as great a success as O'Neill had hoped. It was an easy bet that the Elf would be more attracted to natural wonders than big cities and people. The only trouble they had encountered so far had been when they tried to persuade the Elf to get into the SUV.

She had flatly refused to get inside, saying something wildly about 'dragons of iron with a belly full of orcs, vomiting fire and destruction'. Her dark eyes were haunted. It had taken all of O'Neill's charm and Teal'c's steadfast reassurances to get her merely to touch the flanks of the truck. After she discovered that there was no heat beneath the metal skin, nor any beast lurking in the backseats, she finally climbed inside and sat close to the window, which she insisted be kept open despite the chill in the air. And she absolutely refused to wear a seatbelt. She seemed to want to be ready to spring out of the vehicle should it suddenly change into something monstrous. Daniel sat beside her and kept up a running dialogue, describing the sights that they passed and the history of the area, whatever he could think of to say to keep the elf-woman's mind away from her fear-filled memories.

After a time and once they'd left the maze of Colorado Springs' urban dwellings behind them, Morlothiel showed more interest in her immediate surroundings. Her nervousness changed to curiosity, and she began to investigate every inch of the vehicle; the fabric of the seats, the texture of the carpets, touching but not manipulating the controls on the doors and seats. When they stopped at a rest-area, she slid into the front seat and explored the vehicle controls. Jack popped the bonnet and showed her the engine to prove that the term 'horsepower' was just a metaphor, and that there were no real horses beneath the hood. She listened as he explained in simple terms how the vehicle operated. Her suspicions were not totally allayed, however.

"This conveyance is a wondrous thing, Jack," Morlothiel said, running curious hands over the black treads of the tires, "but it is wizardry beyond my ken. It is enough for me to know that you trust the thing, but I would vow it could be most dangerous in the hands of one of less consciousness. Do these others who steer their vessels conduct themselves with equal discipline thus?"

O'Neill smiled ironically. "Not always, 'Loth. But we'll be extra careful to avoid them. Now get inside. I've got a treat for you, and we have a long way to drive yet."

The Elf became more and more excited as they neared the Grand Canyon Park. The trees attracted her, and she wanted O'Neill to stop the truck so that she could go and talk to them.

Laughing, O'Neill complied. "Don't be all day about it, 'Loth. We've still got a ways to go, and there are plenty of trees to talk to in Minnesota."

Morlothiel climbed up the high bank that had been cut to make the road, moving gracefully up the rugged ground as if it were a staircase instead of a near-vertical slope. She shimmied up a tree and disappeared into the nest of leaves. Teal'c watched her progress through a set of binoculars.

Sam glanced around nervously. There was some traffic passing them, moderate for the time of year. "Maybe one of us should have gone with her, Sir?"

O'Neill gestured toward the cliff. "If you think you can keep up with her, be my guest, Carter."

"What if someone sees her?"

O'Neill turned his head and gave her a pitying look. "_See_ her, Carter? Can **_you_** see her? How is anyone... especially a civilian... going to _see_ **her**?"

"Good point, Sir." Sam conceded with a nod. She picked up the tour-guide that the boy at the entrance to the park had given them. "You know, I've never been to the Grand Canyon as a tourist before."

"Never? Good god, Sam! You live and work less than three hundred miles from one of the Seven Wonders of the World and you've never been there?"

Sam shot her CO a defensive grin. "I have been there... working. A college field-trip to study soil erosion and sub-strata..." She stopped as O'Neill yawned widely. "Sorry if I'm boring you, Sir."

O'Neill blinked and covered his mouth. "Sorry, Carter... you were saying?"

"Never mind. I guess what I mean is that with all the traveling we do... tourism isn't my first priority when I get home."

Daniel was peering out of his window at a group of tourists who had also paused at the rest-area. "I think it is important to know about our own world if we are to understand the worlds we encounter when we go through the 'gate."

"I agree, Daniel," O'Neill said. "We have seen some pretty spectacular stuff 'out there'," O'Neill flicked his fingers skyward, "but you really can't appreciate it if you don't know what's in your own backyard."

"That's what National Geographic Magazines are for, Sir," said Sam, not raising her head from reading. "And I still think that we are risking a breach of security by bringing an extraterrestrial..."

"Elf."

"... An Elf, then... by bringing her to such a public place and letting her run off alone."

"Major Carter," Teal'c said, still peering though the binoculars at the trees. "It would have been quite impossible for any of us to follow Morlothiel. She is currently running along the upper branches of a tree, in pursuit of what looks like a small mammal."

O'Neill squinted toward the treetops, shading his eyes. "'Loth! If you hungry we can get a picnic lunch! Didn't you see the sign that said **'Don't Eat The Squirrels!'**?"

Laughter drifted down to their ears like music, and shortly Morlothiel appeared from between the trunks of the trees. She looked around carefully and when none of the other tourists were nearby, she skated down the steep bank and jumped back inside the vehicle. She had pine-needles in her hair.

"I had no intent to hunt or consume the wee beast," Morlothiel chided O'Neill. "He challenged me to a game. The trees and animals of your world are so talkative... why is it that none of your people speak to them?"

"Sam talks to her plants," O'Neill said, causing Carter to blush profusely and hide her face behind the map.

Morlothiel laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, looking into her face. "My respect for you has increased, Sam. Your wisdom and knowledge is very great, and often one such as you does not know the sweet affection of a growing green thing. We have an understanding that your other companions know not." And she winked at Sam and gave her a nod. Sam smiled gratefully in return and then gave O'Neill a triumphant glare.

"Some of us do talk to plants and animals," Daniel said, "but we don't seem to have an understanding of their languages like you do. Human are the only creatures on our world who speak in words, like we are doing now."

"I talk to my Chia-pet... does that count?" quipped O'Neill, starting the truck and signaling to pull out into traffic.

"Does it talk back, Sir?"

"Not as much as you do."

Sam laughed, "Funny...I've always taken you for a sea-monkey keeper, Sir."

"What about you, T? Do you have a pet that you talk to?" O'Neill asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

"I do not. I have never heard a plant or animal speak. I will listen more closely now."

"I talk to my fish. They don't say anything back," Daniel shrugged.

"Fish can be most laconic. Do not be discouraged." Morlothiel patted his hand comfortingly.

Laughter erupted in the truck as O'Neill pulled back out into traffic.

tbc


	9. Chapter 9 Strange Stars

_another chapter from DarkElf's point of view..._

**Not Quite The Lord of the Rings  
_part Nine, Strange Stars_**

I don't mean to be disrespectful, but these Men do not understand that an Elf is not a Dwarf and cannot dwell ever beneath the earth with the weight of a mountain over her head, and without seeing the sky or the stars and feeling the breath of Manwë on her face. I hunger for the smell and sight of green growing things, and if I remain in the cold grey world that they have created, I will fade.

It is merely a matter of waiting until my escorts have turned their eyes away from my door. The guards at the portals see me through beguiled eyes; I can appear to them as I wish, blending in with a group of people heading toward the surface. My differences-- eyes, ears and height-- can be disguised with a simple spell, which is aided by hearts that wish to see only what is common.

And so I emerge from the depths of the mountain into a blazing orange twilight. The sun here is a cold star, larger and somehow indifferent of the creatures that dwell upon this world. Back home, Arien burns with passion; a bright fierce orb of uncompromising purpose that soars overhead to dispel the darkness. One knows that She sees what occurs within the fall of Her light, and to Manwë reports all She sees. Here, this eye of fire has no consciousness, and it is we who move around the fire as a stone swung 'round in a sling, as the one named Carter describes it to me. Marvelous and fearful to my ears was her tale and now as I concentrate, I can feel the motion of the world beneath my feet, and I doubt my balance for the first time since ever I stood.

From the comfort of a boulder I regard the firmament. The stars here are also different, and my heart yearns to see Eärendil's light again. It seems so impossible to have traveled so far that not even his beacon can be seen. Who watches the doorways to the Outer Void here and keeps evil from crossing over and spoiling the land?

It occurs to me then, sitting beneath the blanketed sky, that my new friends are these protectors. They watch the doorway-- what they call the Stargate-- and keep those who would destroy and enslave the good people at bay. And the price that they pay, like the Eärendil's sacrifice, is no small cost to their lives.

The sky is whirling overhead, pinned to the firmament by a single dim star. The basin-shaped constellation has turned over as if to pour it's contents forth by the time Jack O'Neill finally finds me, sitting on my rock with my knees tucked under my chin.

He waves away my attempt to apologize, merely nudging me to move over and make room for him to sit with me. We watch as the coming dawn slowly ignites the tangle of clouds caught upon the jagged peaks of the mountains. He is a stargazer, too. I know it because the light shining in his eyes. I know it because I can see upon his soul that he realizes that he is but a small thing in a large place; humility and capability in a mortal package such as I have not known since Tuor. He is a noble Man.

He speaks to me, and his voice conveys more than the words that he uses. There is some danger here to me, not very close and yet never too far away. He tells me that by taking me away for a short time that we may avoid this danger, and at the same time we may experience some gentle adventure.

As much as it appeals to me to see more of this strange world, the thought of going any distance from the gateway fills me with trepidation. What happens if the gate is closed against me when we return? What if my life is ended on this world? Will death bear me back to the Mansions of Mandos or will my spirit linger here?

My hesitance is noted, and he allows silence for my thoughts to manifest.

Of all my faults, it seems that curiosity will lead me to destruction... but on the way I shall partake of beauty and life unguessable!

xxxxx

When first I set foot upon this strange world, I noted the smell and feel of all I could see. The sharpness of youth, the tender age of the trees, the scent of the smoky air tinged with life and industry. I believed that all of this world was young, like the Men who dwelled upon it. A mere handful of years among them, leaving small scratches upon the stone before their sons and daughters might come after and add their own marks.

Kneeling here on the edge of the great canyon I know that this world is indeed old, perhaps even older than Eä. The mighty hands of Ulmo might have carved this monument, but surely Morgoth would have destroyed it; such beauty he would have abhorred.

Far below the coloured layers of stone the river lay gleaming, no more than a silver thread from this height. As the breath from the canyon lifts my dark hair around my face like wings, I feel the urge to spread feathers and fly out over the gulf. I do not do this, of course, for I have not wings even if my heart is light! I scan the air for the flight of a great eagle. I mayhap could persuade one to bear me along the warm updraft for a time.


	10. Chapter 10 Flight of the Dragonfly

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
****part Ten, Flight of the Dragonfly**

Morlothiel regarded the helicopter with a mixture of suspicion and excitement. She turned her eyes upon O'Neill and said, "If I was less sure of my trust in you, Jack O'Neill, I would think that perhaps you are having a joke over my naivety. Are you sure that this vessel can fly? It does not resemble any beast that I have ever seen soar though the sky. You ask much of me to take your words on faith."

Jack put all the reassurance and charm into his smile that he could muster. "Trust me, 'Loth. You're gonna _love_ this."

O'Neill installed the Elf in the front of the helicopter, where he buckled her safety belts himself. He took the pilot seat, having realized that there was no way they could explain Morlothiel's behavior-- whatever that turned out to be like-- to a civilian pilot. Rather than going to the trouble of trying to find an AF pilot with adequate security clearance and superhuman patience, O'Neill had commandeered a craft similar to those that were regularly used for canyon tours, and had himself checked out on it before they had embarked on their little homeland adventure.

Sam Carter remained unconvinced. She stopped O'Neill before he got inside the 'copter to try once more to dissuade him. "I still think that you should let me pilot, Sir. If she loses it up front while you're trying to steer..."

"She won't."

"I wish I knew how you can be so sure."

"Well, you can't know _everything_, Carter-- your head would explode." O'Neill spoke with a touch more exasperation than he had intended. In a gentler tone, he added, "I _saw_ her face, Sam, when I asked her if she'd like to fly with us. She's not afraid of it."

Carter turned and looked at Morlothiel where she sat in the helicopter. The Elf was clutching the shoulder straps of her safety harness, a glow of anticipation on her face. Sam recognized that glow; she'd worn it herself once, when her father had taken her on her first small-airplane ride.

Smiling at the memory, she conceded. "All right, Sir. I'm with you."

"Then let's go!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It looks like a giant dragonfly... or the body of some bizarre sea-creature that long ago gave its flesh to hungry scavengers. It smells different than the land craft that bore us to this place. The sides are transparent, and I do not get the feeling of enclosure that I dislike as I climb inside. There are more workings in this craft than in the other, too. I am careful to heed O'Neill's request and refrain from touching any of them.

A horrible, high-pitched noise cuts at my ears, even through this bulky helm that O'Neill has placed over my head. I can hear their voices as if spoken into my ears, but the thrumming beat of the flying vessel's wings is deadened so that it seems no more than the purr large cat. As we are lifted into the air, these discomforts vanish from my mind. The world draws back from us and I feel as though I have been picked up by my soul.

I once rode on the back of a Great Eagle, an honour and a thrill that I have never forgotten. This was nothing like the flight of Eagles where you have the comfort of the warmth of the great bird beneath you-- I am glad of the belts that hold me snug in this seat-- this is like riding in a foam bubble that the sea has flung over the waves, rising you up over the world to kiss the clouds. I felt as though at any moment we should begin to fall from the sky! But O'Neill is smiling, and his deft hands touch the complex working of the vessel and we do not fall.

It is all quite exhilarating! The world passes us as we swoop and dive. Then O'Neill reins in the charge, and the tapestry below us slows down and we hover-- impossibly! -- right above the mighty river that writhes through the red-brown-yellow walls.

Too soon it seems that the flight is over. O'Neill brings us back to the nest, gently landing us on solid earth again. My heart continues to pound as the whine of the vessel subsides, leaving my ears echoing with the ache of memory. Released from the hugging straps of the harness, I climb out of the vessel and stumble. It is as though the bones in my legs have softened. I feel tired as I have rarely felt before, and yet I am invigorated. Except for the Mariner and his wife, no other Elf has ever felt like this before!


	11. Chapter 11 Golden Child

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
****part Eleven, Golden Child**

As Jack O'Neill climbed out of the cockpit, his cellular phone began to ring. While Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c piled out of the passenger compartment of the helicopter, he snapped the phone open and put it to his ear.

"O'Neill." He listened impassively as the rest of his team looked on. The call was most likely from the SGC, and none of them particularly wanted their little vacation to be cut short. None of them had noticed yet that their Elven guest had stumbled to her knees on the other side of the craft.

Morlothiel put on hand to her throbbing forehead uncertainly. She was disoriented by the exhilarating flight, as well as the penetrating and painful noise of the engines. How the others could endure it, she could not understand. Maybe they could not hear it, the same way that they couldn't hear the voices in the rocks and wind around them, nor understand the languages of the animals and water.

Two small feet appeared in her narrowed vision. A soft voice asked, "Lady, you okay?"

Morlothiel looked up in surprise. A child, a mere waif of a girl, stood next to her. She was holding out a bottle of water.

"G'won... have a drink. I ain't got cooties!"

Morlothiel accepted the bottle and lifted it to her lips. "My thanks, little one."

The child shrugged. "Sometimes ridin' in th'opters makes me wanna toss my cookies, too." She squinted into Morlothiel's face as if looking for something. "You gonna be sick."

"I do hope that I am not." Morlothiel folded her legs beneath her and regarded her visitor squarely. "By what name are you called?"

The little girl stuck a finger into her mouth, becoming suddenly shy. "I'm not suppose t'talk t'strangers," she mumbled.

Morlothiel smiled. "It was you that first spoke to me."

The child stared at her for a moment. "Laurie."

"_Làurië._" On Morlothiel's tongue, the name became musical. "Among my people, that word means 'golden'. You must be very precious to your parents for them to name you so. Where are they?"

Laurie turned and pointed toward a group of people. They were standing some distance away, some of them huddled together while a slender woman stood aside and held a silvery box in the air before her eyes. "Mom's holdin' the camera." Laurie turned back toMorlothiel and added, "M' dada's a pilot! He flies the tour th'opter."

"Will your mother not miss you when she sees that you are not at her side?"

"You talk funny."

"As do you."

"No, I don't! I talk normal." Laurie looked closely at Morlothiel again. "You don't look like you should, neither."

Morlothiel reached up and touched one of her slightly tapered ears, and then smoothed her long hair to conceal it. "You are not easily deceived, Laurie."

"Nope. My mom says I'm smart like a whip." The girl held herself proudly.

"Hey, there!" Jack O'Neill said, startling both elf and child. He dropped down onto one knee so as not to frighten the little one. "Who's your new friend?"

Laurie looked up at Jack, fearless and innocent. "My daddy's taller than you!"

"That's good," O'Neill said equably. "I'm not really all that tall... my legs are only long enough to reach the ground."

The child stared at him for a moment more then burst into giggles and fled, running back to her mother to hide behind her legs. Jack laughed and stood up, offering a hand to assist Morlothiel to her feet. She accepted his help because she wasn't sure she could have risen without it.

This fact had not entirely escaped O'Neill's notice. "Look, I hate to cut the fun short, but I just got a call from the General. We need to get back to the mountain right away."

"Very well, Jack." Morlothiel nodded. "I hope we can continue this exploration soon, yet I must confess that I feel the need for solid earth beneath my feet for a while!"

"Ah," Jack said, somewhat embarrassed. "That's a catch... we have to get back quick... Hammond is sending a jet to pick us up." Morlothiel frowned, uncomprehending. "It's another flying machine. It will bring us back home faster than the truck."

Morlothiel sighed. "I will accompany thee, Jack O'Neill, but I must be honest; it would be my preference to walk the long leagues back to your fortress!"

Jack frowned. Maybe she was more than just tired. He thought that it was a trick of the light on the pale yellow stones, but he could now see that something was wrong with the elven woman. The shimmering light that had played about her during her infirmary was again dancing about her, making her skin seem more luminescent. "Hey... are you okay?"

"What's wrong, Sir?" Carter asked as she, Daniel, and Teal'c joined them.

"Not a thing," O'Neill announced, unconsciously stepping between them and Morlothiel. "Our plane will be at the Angel Pass Airfield in forty-five minutes. Let's go, kids. Danny, catch!" Jack tossed him the keys to the vehicle

Daniel snatched the key ring out of the air deftly, making no effort to conceal his surprise, "You _want_ **me** to drive?"

"I'm just curious to see if you can handle a truck with some muscle." Jack answered smoothly.

Daniel snorted. "I've driven your gas-guzzler before, Jack-- I'm sure I can handle this one. And I'll have you know I drove a Hummer across the Giza Plateau once." Daniel climbed eagerly in the front seat.

"Carter, you ride shotgun," O'Neill said, resettling his Chicago Cubs cap on his head. "Me and Teal'c'll take the cheap seats."

"Okay, but if we have to forego our picnic, then pass the cooler up so we can snack on the way to the airfield," Carter said. "And keep your thumbs out of the potato salad!"

xxxxxxxxxx

Southeast of the plateau from where the helicopters took of and landed, a ridge of stone rose from the ground. Between that ridge and the helipad a tall stand of trees were clustered thickly. Among those trees, lost in the shadow cast by the ridge of stone, stood two men. One held binoculars to his eyes while the other watched him, occasionally speaking softly into the microphone on his headset.

They watched as the five people got into the SUV, waiting until the vehicle pulled out of parking and turned sedately down the road. The binocular lenses followed their movements until nothing could be seen but a plume of dust. The man lowered his binoculars and nodded at the other man.

"They are in route. Repeat... they are in route." The man glanced at his wristwatch. "ETA, thirty-five minutes. Sandman is driving."

"Affirmative. Use extreme caution. Daedalus may suspect. Proceed."

"Affirmative."

The man with the binoculars scoffed at the message as it was relayed to him. "How can O'Neill suspect anything? We've kept completely out of sight!"

"Use the code words, dumbass," growled the other man. "And shut up. We've got to be somewhere." Without another word, he began picking his way down the steep hill, hanging onto tree trunks to avoid slipping. Grumbling, his companion followed him.

When they reached the parking area, the walked immediately to a dark van with heavily tinted windows. The side door rolled open as they approached. As both men climbed inside, the engine roared to life. The vehicle pulled away sharply before the door was fully closed.

A little girl with golden blonde hair, hiding behind her mother's legs, watched as the van disappeared down the same dusty road that Daniel had taken.


	12. Chapter 12 Ambuscades

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
****part twelve, Ambuscades**

The road to Angel Pass Airfield was an ambusher's dream-come-true. The road curved around this-way-and-that, cutting through rough hills, with plenty of brush and trees behind which to hide. Six men were concealed on both sides of the road, dressed in dark clothes with their faces covered. Sweat rolled down their bodies as the merciless midday sun beat down on them, but they didn't move.

If some of these men considered an assault in the middle of the day to be utter madness, none of them dared to speak their thoughts aloud. Orders were orders, and to disobey orders was to die... sooner rather than later. As long as they were paid well, they'd do what they were hired to do.

A spotter stood on the tallest hill, squatting in the shadow of a tree. When he saw the target vehicle he spoke softly into his radio. A few more minutes and the trap would be sprung.

* * *

Morlothiel sat between O'Neill and Teal'c and listened to Jack's seemingly endless anecdotes of their trips through the Stargate. Teal'c would occasionally interject a comment, either as support or in contradiction.

"And then, just as we were about to reach the Stargate, Teal'c takes it into his head to turn and stand-off against the whole village!"

"I believe that your remembrance of this incident may be in error, O'Neill," Teal'c said calmly. "I recall that it was you who first turned and engaged our pursuers in combat."

"Well... I turned around to see how close they were getting... " O'Neill said defensively. "You fired before I did!"

"Superior Jaffa reflexes," Teal'c said with lofty confidence. Daniel and Sam chuckled.

"What_**ever!**_"

Morlothiel was looking around at the scenery while the comrades bickered merrily. The SUV was winding through a gnarl of hills. It reminded her somewhat of the gates leading to Hidden Gondolin.

"Jack, what manner of people live in these hills?" she said, a mild frown darkening her brow.

"No one lives here, 'Loth. This is a national preserve... the government doesn't let anyone live here."

"Ah. Is it then that the men who watch our progress are sentries for this sacred land? That explains why they are so cunningly concealed." Both O'Neill and Teal'c rolled down their tinted windows and peered out.

"There shouldn't be anyone out here," O'Neill said. "Carter, call the airfield and request ETA for our flight."

Morlothiel leaned over and put her face out of the half-open window. "They are dress for darkness, and yet the sun is high. They look like orc-folk, but they do not smell of them."

"You must have eyes like a hawk, 'Loth. I can't see them."

"There are several, hiding among the plants… one high to our left, standing in the lee of that tree. He is holding something in his arms..."

Sam had her cell phone pressed to her ear. "Sir, I can't get through to the airfield. There's some sort of interference..."

At that moment one of the front tires blew out, and the entire vehicle lurched toward the left. Daniel shouted and fought the wheel, trying to prevent them from either crashing or rolling over. The SUV staggered forward as he pressed the brakes, and then slewed around 180 degrees before it came to a rocking stop.

Both O'Neill and Teal'c had grabbed whatever parts of the Elf they could reach and tucked their heads down, expecting to crash. Before the vehicle ceased wobbling, O'Neill had produced a 9mm handgun as if by magic. He reached under the seat, saying, "I didn't bring your BFK, 'Loth, but here..." he turned to offer her the hilt of a bayonet.

But Morlothiel was already gone, having slipped out of the open window like a cat. "Damn!" O'Neill shouted. "Get clear of this truck and find cover! Regroup half a klick back down the road. Go!"

As one, the doors of the SUV flew open and the members of SG-1 ran in separate directions. Gunfire crackled in the air, kicking up dirt at their feet. Daniel dove into a gully, clutching his hat. Sam somersaulted across the road and ran at a crouch until she was behind cover.

Behind her shrub, Sam knelt and looked around, trying to spot where the shots were coming from. Bullets tore through the leaves of the bushes, forcing her to lie flat in the dust. From somewhere behind her O'Neill's handgun barked, and then one black-garbed figure fell out of a tree and stopped moving. Teal'c suddenly appeared beside her.

"Are you injured, Major Carter?"

"No. Can you see these guys, Teal'c? I can't make a damn one!"

"There are at least two more on this side of the road. I have not spotted their exact locations. If you will follow me, I think we can elude their notice." Before Sam could agree or protest, Teal'c slipped away.

* * *

O'Neill headed in the direction that he's seen Morlothiel go. She had seemed to disappear as soon as she stepped into the bushes.

He kept moving, staying low and as silent as possible. He heard the voice of a rifle above him and to his right. As stealthy as a shadow, he crept up to the base of the tree and fired one round from his 9mm. The man in the tree dropped his rifle and rolled off of the limb.

O'Neill tore off the stocking mask covering the man's face. He didn't recognize him, and there was no insignia or clues to who he was or might have been working for. O'Neill holstered his handgun and lifted the rifle. He checked the ammo clip and cleared the action as automatically as breathing. Lifting it to his eyes, he sighted across the road, looking for the other snipers.

He spotted one, tucked in a crevasse of stone nearly straight across from his position. He spotted Sam and Teal'c creeping carefully below the man; he seemed unable to see them from his vantage point. The man foolishly leaned outward far enough to see below him. O'Neill squeezed the trigger.

Carter jumped back with alarm as the report of a rifle echoed sharply and a M25 dropped from above like a gift from heaven, landing on the grass at her feet.

Daniel couldn't move from his hiding place. The sniper who had shot out the tire was drilling the ground right above him, forcing him to cower on his belly. The gully he had found to hide in felt no deeper than a teaspoon to the archeologist. He didn't dare raise his head to look around.

He was close enough to the sniper to hear the empty cartridges fall as they were ejected. The gunfire was muffled; the man was probably using a silencer, which made no sense at all-- none of the other men firing were bothering to use silencers!

Daniel scrunched down again as the earth before his face erupted in sandy spray. If the gunman could shoot an inch lower... or maybe he was missing deliberately. Daniel was in no mood to experiment by giving up that inch.

Then something happened that caused Daniel to discard his fear and raise his head. A scream came from above-- a shriek, torn from a human throat sounds such as Daniel had never heard before. Then, before his very eyes, he saw what he would later describe only to himself as the Angel of Death Incarnate.

* * *

She ran toward the source of the bullet that had disabled the vehicle. Morlothiel knew where the others were, but in her estimation this one was the more dangerous of all she had seen.

She climbed the hill and up the tree making no more sound than a snake crossing a carpet. The man was sighting down his rifle and was blind to her approach. She struck out with the edge of her hand across the man's eyes. He howled and dropped the gun, but his howl turned into an agonized cry as he realized he was blinded. He groped for his sidearm even though he couldn't see his attacker.

Morlothiel lifted herself up to a limb just above the man, kicking the handgun from his fingers. Then she hooked her legs around the limb and hanging upside down she reached and took the man's head gently in her hands. For a moment Daniel was unsure what she planned to do, then he winced as she effortlessly reversed the man's head and then let him fall from her hands.

But the angel wasn't done. She dropped down next to her fallen enemy and, ignoring the guns, took the man's combat knife and tore off a length of cloth from his shirt. She swiftly knelt and gathered small sharp stones for her makeshift sling, and then she faded into the trees, on the hunt again.

* * *

Daniel stared at the place where she had been, unable to move. Only when Jack O'Neill came running up and dove onto the ground beside him did he shake his fascination and horror.

"Danny! Are you hit?" O'Neill reached to turn him over.

Daniel waved away his concern, still staring up at the grisly scene. "I'm fine... but that's more than I can say for him..."

O'Neill sighed; he'd already seen what she had done. "Which way did she go?" he asked, his voice hard and his eyes as dark as volcanic glass. "Let's hope she doesn't do that to all of 'em..."

Daniel shrugged. O'Neill grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up behind a rock. He thrust his 9mm into Daniel's hands. "Keep your head down and count to fifty, then get yourself to the rendezvous. We got at least three more of these--" there came a cry from behind them, back toward where the vehicle had been abandoned. Turning as one, both men watched as another black-clad figure came cartwheeling out of a tree, boneless as a ragdoll.

"--Two more, that is," O'Neill amended dryly. "Oh, boy... Hammond's gonna love this..."


	13. Chapter 13 Bait

**Not Quite The Lord of the Rings, Ch 13  
Bait**

Morlothiel lay flat, trying to remain unseen while looking for a way to approach her prey. He had a very good position, placed high so that all around him could be seen, out of range of her sling. In his hands he held the long black metal tube that spat shaftless arrowheads. They were very hard to see once they were cast, very difficult to dodge. Morlothiel doubted that she could run fast enough to reach his vantage point and still evade their sting, as well as climb up the rocky cleft where he'd concealed himself. The man had an unobstructed view all around. There was no way she could come up on him unawares.

She had just decided that she must try to work her way around behind the man and try to approach him from the rear, when she spotted O'Neill. He was winding his way closer, just behind the man and to his left. All the man had to do was look back and O'Neill would be seen.

Morlothiel rose and darted to the right, behind a jumble of stones. The man fired at her, the shots echoing as sharp as the shards of stone that were chipped away by the ricochets. Morlothiel felt one such shard bite into her skin. She ignored it, rising again to draw his attention. She knew that O'Neill would take advantage of the man's diverted attention.

Ignoring the rivulet of blood streaming down her arm, she lifted herself again and darted to the side. She caught a glimpse of O'Neill, now very close to the target and moving fast. He was most vulnerable. Morlothiel let herself fall, carefully smearing blood across her face and tumbling so that she lay face-up. There was a sharp biting tug in her shoulder. She fought back the urge to shout in pain.

The ruse worked. The next sound that Morlothiel heard was the man's shout as he was pulled from his vantage point by an angry Air Force Colonel. Jack took the man's rifle and used the butt of it to knock the man unconscious. He seized the man by the collar and dragged him a few feet to Morlothiel's side, where he knelt in the center of the man's back while he tied his hands tightly behind him with his own belt.

When he looked up from his work, he saw that Morlothiel had picked herself up from the ground. Blood was trickling from the fingers of her left hand, but she was wearing a large smile and seemed unaware of her wounds.

"Well done, O'Neill! You are a formidable hunter!"

"And you make a great **target**," Jack retorted. "What were you _thinking_… running out in the open like that? Did you think you could outrun a bullet?"

Morlothiel looked down and released a self-mocking laugh. "Did I _not_****outrun many of them?"

"The others are meeting us half a mile back down the road. Can you walk?" Jack wanted to bring the unconscious man with them, but he was more concerned with the Elf's wounds.

"Of course… I am injured in my shoulder and arm, not upon my legs!" Morlothiel flexed her left arm and rotated her shoulder to test the range of her pain. "I only fear that I will leave a markable trail that anyone who might look could follow."

"Don't worry about it," Jack said. He hefted the man over his shoulders. "Grab that boom-stick for me, would ya? Don't hold it by the barrel! And don't pull that trigger…"

"Cease your prattling, O'Neill. I have seen you and your folk handle such items. I will not accidentally discharge the weapon." Morlothiel fell in behind O'Neill as he walked, her eyes restlessly scanning the area. "Did I do wrongly, O'Neill? I know that your people frown upon killing, but I feared for Daniel's life, and I acted on instinct."

"You did just right, 'Loth." Jack grunted as he shifted his burden. "I just wanted at least one of these guys alive to answer some questions."


	14. Chapter 14 Coup de Grace

**Not Quite The Lord of the Rings, ch 14  
Coup de Grace**

"In my land, the words of the Enemy are never to be treated as truth," Morlothiel said as she followed O'Neill. "These men are but men—will your ears be locked against the falseness of their words? How will the truth be distilled?"

"Oh, we have ways of making them talk…" O'Neill allowed himself a small grin.

While the Elf pondered his words, they moved as swiftly over the rough terrain. O'Neill managed his burden well enough, but he envied the catlike grace and absolute stealth of his companion. He wondered if all the people of her race could move like that—if they were anything at all like her. An entire race of tall, graceful, beautiful, deadly people… Jack wondered if there was any way Earth could become allies with the Elves. If Morlothiel were a prime example, they would be wonderful folk beside which to fight!

But example had taught Jack O'Neill that such people were more often the exception than the rule… people like Teal'c, for instance. If one were to hold Teal'c—or Bra'tac for that matter—up as a yardstick for their entire race, all others would fall short of the goal.

Jack's musings were interrupted as they drew near the rendezvous site. There were a couple of different places where his team might be taking cover. O'Neill knew instantly where they were; he could see the top of Jackson's head between some branches. Teal'c and Carter would be close by. He was about to hail them with a whistle when Morlothiel went stiff at his side. Needing no other warning, Jack dropped behind some bushes. The man he had been carrying grunted as he hit the ground. Morlothiel disappeared like a mirage.

Jack saw a dark vehicle appeared down the road, kicking up a trail of dust as it drove along with reckless speed. Even so, it would take a few minutes for the truck to pass the rendezvous point. Jack cursed softly when he realized that Morlothiel had taken the rifle with her. He had hoped to shoot out a tire and wind up with an escape vehicle.

What he saw next made him suck in a breath sharply and hold it.

Morlothiel appeared in the road behind the vehicle, running like a gazelle through the plume of dust. She leaped to the rear bumper and then to the roof of the truck, where she held tight to the cargo racks.

The truck suddenly braked hard, fishtailing in the sandy road. Teal'c was standing in the road, his arms held up wide as if in warning or surrender. Daniel was kneeling beside him, bent over as if wounded. When the two men inside the vehicle got out, weapons drawn and oozing suspicion, yet neither bothered to look up or around.

Morlothiel leaped onto the driver and bowled him to the earth while Sam came up silently from the bushes and poked the other man between the shoulder blades with the rifle the Elf had formerly been carrying.

Jack couldn't keep the grin off of his face as he watched. The man he had captured struggled against his bonds, but Jack merely laughed. "See that," he said merrily to his frowning captive, "**that's** teamwork!"


	15. Chapter 15 Briefing

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, ch 15**

**Briefing**

General Hammond sat as if studying the reports on his desk. He turned the pages slowly, even though he had already nearly memorized their contents. SG-1 was waiting in the briefing room. He knew that he was procrastinating. He didn't want to tell them what orders his superiors had passed down concerning their willowy guest. They were not going like it; he knew because he didn't like it either.

Finally, he gathered the sheets of paper together and straightened them, rising from behind his desk like a bullfighter with second-thoughts. Might as well get it over-with…

"Excuse the delay, people," Hammond said, sitting down in his chair. He knew without looking that they were each staring toward him; except for O'Neill, he would be looking at the tablet of paper that he would have been doodling on.

Actually, O'Neill was looking at his own hands resting on the table beside the paper, fingertips drumming silently on the over- polished surface. When he realized that he was doing this, he sat back and put his hands under the table.

Hammond suppressed a sigh as he sat down at the head of the table. "I've reviewed your reports on the incident in Arizona… I'm sorry, people," he interrupted himself softly, skipping the carefully thought-out spiel that he had prepared. "I'm afraid that Morlothiel will have to be returned to her home world as soon as possible."

"Is that what the President wants? To send her away before she can fall into the hands of the NID—the Trust… whatever," O'Neill asked, looking up at last to meet Hammond's eyes. "We beat them back, Sir. I think that we can do it again, and as many times again as necessary."

"I know that, Jack," Hammond said gently, catching everyone's attention with the rare use of O'Neill's first name during a briefing. Briefings were usually impersonal and businesslike. But George Hammond had enough experience with his flagship team to know when to use kid-gloves. "And before you ask, we dialed PME-135 just a few hours ago. We received no data from the first probe, so we sent another MALP."

"What data did the second probe send back, Sir?" Carter asked.

"The entire area is overrun with creatures like the ones that chased you back through the Stargate. They appear to be congregating." Hammond picked up a remote control and turned, pointing it at the flat screen on the wall. Images of hulking, black-skinned creatures appeared, leaping about and brandishing weapons, apparently excited by the 'gate activity and the appearance of the robotic probe. The frenzied rabble began to hurl rocks and other things. Very quickly the picture was obscured as the camera was damaged, and then the images ceased altogether. Hammond said, "As you can see for yourselves, they destroyed the second MALP as well."

"I don't see how we can send her back, General," Daniel said. He was still looking at the blank screen as if waiting for more information. "Those creatures are called 'Orcs', Sir, and they are deadly enemies of the Eldar, according to Morlothiel."

Teal'c, who had been sitting quietly and listening, added softly, "I believe that they will kill her as soon as she steps through the Stargate, General Hammond."

"Actually," Jack added in a dry voice, fingers rapping unconsciously on the table in agitation, "they'll probably take her prisoner and torture her to find out what is beyond the 'magic circle'. **_Then_** they'll kill her."

"I know," Hammond said firmly. "And I have no intention of sending her into any danger. I've explained the situation to the President."

Sam looked at the General with wide eyes. "What did he say then, Sir, if I may ask?"

"He repeated the phrase 'as soon as possible', Major. Until that time, she will have to make a home with us… here in Cheyenne Mountain. No more excursions."

Jack looked like he might have something to say in response to this, but he bit his lip and picked up a pencil as if to continue his artistic endeavors. Sam and Daniel looked at each other and then back to the General.

Hammond smiled. "I know what you're all thinking. 'How are we going to contain her when she doesn't want to be contained?' Right?"

Sam looked very uncomfortable as she said, "Well, Sir… she does have a knack for walking through our Security like it isn't there."

"I was hoping we could appeal to her sense of reason," Hammond said, looking pointedly at O'Neill. "Colonel, you have the closest rapport with our guest. Make her understand why."

O'Neill tossed the pen down on the pad of paper and nodded his assent to Hammond's request. "I will, Sir."

"Where is she now, Colonel?"

"Infirmary. That is, she _was_ in the Infirmary. Janet probably had to hog-tie her to get her to hold still long enough for her to remove the bullet from her shoulder."

Hammond glanced down at his stack of reports again. "She wasn't seriously hurt?"

"According to her, she wasn't hurt at all," O'Neill rolled his eyes. "I just think she agreed to let Frazier take out the bullet because she was curious to see what it looked like."

Hammond allowed himself a brief smile and nodded. "See what can be done, Colonel."


	16. Chapter 16 Androcles and the Elf

**Not Quite The Lord Of The Rings  
****Chapter 16, Androcles and the Elf**

Janet Frasier has been a doctor for a long time. She has worked under some of the strangest circumstances in the world—and off-world. Today would be another anecdote in the bizarre history of her career.

First of all, the diminutive doctor was beside herself with anger when she took in the state of Morlothiel. The Elf had walked into the Infirmary under her own power, behaving quite as though there wasn't a thing wrong with her, except that she was leaking bright red blood from a hole in her shoulder. Morlothiel, conscious of the effect of her strange blood on her new human friends, had refused even the most basic first aid from their hands, and of course they couldn't have taken her to a regular hospital as it would have been very, very hard to explain to the civilian doctors what manner of creature had wandered into his emergency care unit.

Still, Janet was appalled that the Elf had come so far with nothing more than a wad of gauze tied to her shoulder with a strap of leather. She made Morlothiel sit down on the nearest table. All around her, interns and nurses raced about in patterned chaos, anticipating her orders.

"I need Surgery Room One prepped immediately," Janet said, over her shoulder as she double-gloved. Her voice was firm but her hands were gentle as she removed the sodden bandage from the wound.

"I do not wish to cause disorder in your house of healing," Morlothiel said, watching the doctor work with interest. "Perhaps I should not have come at this time?"

Janet gave the Elf an amused glance, her hands never hesitating in their ministrations. "What do you mean?"

"I see that you and your ingénues are quite busy, though I confess that I see no other persons that appear gravely injured." Morlothiel made motion as if to stand, "I could wait, if needs be…"

"Morlothiel—nobody who comes into **_my_** infirmary with a hole in their shoulder has to wait to be taken care of… not even an Elf!" Janet sniffed, pushing her on her uninjured shoulder to sit back. "And don't give me that 'it's-just-a-flesh-wound' line, either… I've heard it from Col. O'Neill too many times to believe it!"

"I would not say so," answered Morlothiel mildly. "This wound gives me some concern. If it had been inflicted in my own world, it would have long since healed. But we have no weapons in Middle-earth such as these, so I am beyond my ken to understand them."

"Well, they are not beyond my 'ken'," Janet said pertly. "Lay back on the table, there. We're going to take you into surgery now."

"I would rather not…" Morlothiel hesitated; she trusted Janet as much as any human she had met in this world, but to be surrounded by strangers while wounded as she was, it filled her with great uncertainty.

This time was different from her first visit to the Stargate infirmary. Then she had been critically wounded with a dart poisoned with the blood of an orc, as well as being quite unconscious for most of the experience; here and now she had what in her knowing seemed little more than a scratch, and she was loathe to lower her guard.

But Janet Frasier was no ordinary infirmarian and not to be trifled with; her skill and confidence as a doctor was seconded only by her compassion and patience. Though nearly two feet shorter in height than her patient, she had great personal presence as well as the strength of conviction in her. She had to repeat her request but once more, coupled with a stern glare, to make the Elven warrior meek; Morlothiel lay back obediently and permitted herself to be moved into the sterile room.

There was still the problem of Morlothiel's powerful resistance to anesthetics. Janet knew that there was no drug at her disposal that could affect her patient. As she proceeded through the routine of scrubbing and dressing, Janet tried to bolster herself for the operation… knowing that she was about to put someone who trusted her in unutterable agony; Morlothiel would feel everything.

Her large brown eyes were therefore shining with empathy as she stepped into the operating room. She placed a transparent shield over her eyes and turned toward her patient.

"Morlothiel," she said gently, "I wish that I could give you something to deaden the pain, but none of our drugs will help you."

"I understand, _Hiril_," Morlothiel said, addressing Janet with the honorific of her own people. "Do what you must. I am ready."

Janet cast her eyes over her equipment, shining clean and perfectly arranged by her excellent staff. She took a deep breath before she began, careful not let any of her apprehension show. Before she started, she glanced up at her assistant and said, "Jaw block."

The nurse passed her something. Janet showed it to Morlothiel and said, "Open your mouth."

"What is that?" Morlothiel asked, staring at the suspicious object.

"It is something for you to bite on… in case the pain is too great."

Morlothiel hesitated, then opened her mouth and gingerly closed her fine white teeth upon the thing. Strangely, she felt instantly better, even when Dr. Fraser began working into the matrix of pain that was radiating from her shoulder. She managed to control her urge to scream, reducing it to a mere shudder that passed throughout her body.

Janet might have winced herself, if her years of practice had not honed her skills beyond such weakness. She worked steadily and firmly, and by the time she had found the bullet and removed it, she found that her faith in her own skill was justified, as well as her pride in her staff and her respect for her extraordinary patient.

Morlothiel's face was covered with a sheen of perspiration, and the jaw block she had bitten on was nearly cleft through. Janet gently removed it. The nurse assisting gently blotted the Elf's forehead with a clean towel.

"It's over, 'Loth," Janet said, "Can you move your arm?"

"I can," Morlothiel's reply came in a whisper, "but I'd rather not."

"How about just wiggling your fingers for me?" Janet insisted gently. Morlothiel obeyed, and Janet breathed a sigh of visible relief. "Good. Now, I want you to rest. I know you are going to want to get up right away, but please humor me… lie still for a while and let yourself heal."

Morlothiel nodded, letting her head lay back to the pillow. To Janet's utter amazement, she closed her eyes and appeared to fall asleep.

Janet wouldn't let her staff move the Elf into a recovery room; she waved them out, making a _shhhh!_ gesture against her lips with a finger. If Morlothiel wanted to sleep—an activity that Janet had never witnessed her perform—then by God she would see that no one woke her for **_any_** reason.

She set her most trusted assistant to make her rounds for her. Then, stationing herself in a chair just inside the door of Morlothiel's room, she began a vigil.

* * *

In a darkened room, the telephone on the desk began to ring. A hand came out of the darkness to pick it up; the hand was as white as a corpse. The hand raised the phone to the unseen ear, blending into the shadows so that nothing could be seen beyond a dim silhouette.

A voice buzzed over the line. "The subjects have eluded us."

"And the agents…?"

"Captured or terminated."

"Captured?"

"Steps are being taken to liberate…"

"No." The shadowy man said; his voice as emotionless as the instrument into which he spoke. "Arrange for them to be silenced… before they can be made to compromise us."

"Sir."

The white hand lowered the phone gently onto the cradle, then lay motionless beside the phone as if waiting for it to ring. The voice drifted out of the darkness again, "We shall have to make other arrangements."

Another voice, this one low and reedy and sounding not-quite human, answered.

"Do so at once. And be sure to obtain the strange woman as well."

"That will be extremely difficult… especially now."

"Take whatever steps are required." There was movement in the dark room, but nothing could be seen of the speaker. "When she has fulfilled my curiosity, I believe that she will make an exceptional host."

"Yes, my lord."

And out of the darkness, a pair of eyes glowed with anticipation.


	17. Chapter 17 2020 Foresight

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, ch 17  
20/20 Foresight**

"You are going to adventure through the Stargate."

Jack O'Neill nearly jumped out of his skin when a soft voice spoke these words; he had believed that he was alone in the locker room at the time. "Loth—you shouldn't sneak up on a man like that," he sighed. "What're you doing up there?"

Morlothiel looked down at him from her perch on top of the row of lockers. "I apologize for startling you. I thought that you were aware of my presence."

"If I was aware of your presence," O'Neill growled as he finished tucking in his shirt and fastening his BDU's, "I would've kept my britches on."

"The Men of this place are curiously inconsistent concerning the display of their bodies," Morlothiel observed. "You all wear such defining clothing, and yet become bashful when you are seen without. I do not pretend to understand."

"It's one of those mysteries of Life," O'Neill said wryly as he shrugged into his green mission jacket. "There's no telling what is going on inside a man's head." He closed his locker with a soft bang. "Why are you lurking around inside the men's locker room? Carter has obviously been a bad influence on you."

"You are mistaken... Samantha has been very helpful to show me the most discreet egresses into this gender-restricted area." O'Neill looked around in alarm, and Morlothiel laughed in response. "That was an attempt at humor. Teal'c has been lecturing me in the fine subtleties of the art of joke-telling."

O'Neill grinned and shook his head, rolling his eyes heavenward. "I should have recognized _jaffa_ humor... dry as the deserts of Abydos! Oh, never mind… at least you didn't catch anyone else in their skivvies. You just spooked me... I thought you were still in the Infirmary."

"Janet Fraser has given me leave to depart freely. She said that I am…" the Elf woman cocked her head, trying to remember exactly what the diminutive doctor had said, "I think the words she used were 'disgustingly healthy'." Morlothiel jumped down to the floor, landing as softly as a cat. "Forgive me for ignoring the aesthetic rules governing this room… but I wish to speak with you before you depart."

"Well, there's no need to lurk above my locker! You can see us off in the control room. Hammond gave you access, didn't he?"

"Aye, that he had done. But it is not so easy to discard all of my habits—do you forget that 'lurking' is one of my refined attributes?"

"No, I do not forget. And see that you don't forget that you promised not to sneak out of the base while we're gone." O'Neill accompanied this question with his sternest glare. "Hammond has pulled out enough of his hair without having to worry about you… and he hasn't got much left anymore."

Morlothiel nodded formally. O'Neill took the gesture as a form of Eldar obeisance. "I'm going to hold you to that. This mission is a check-up call on some of our old friends and shouldn't take more than a few hours. We ought to be back before tea-time."

"I shall remain sequestered, as I have promised."

"And if you get a compulsion to go outside…?" O'Neill asked, leading her out of the locker room.

"I shall turn on the machine which you call a television and watch the finding channel," Morlothiel intoned solemnly, repeating the words that O'Neill had rehearsed with her when he had visited her in the infirmary following the conversation with the General regarding her behaviour. The Elf had demurred at first, but eventually accepted Jack's appeal and acquiesced.

"'The _Discovery_ Channel'," O'Neill corrected her doggedly. "Right. And if you get restless…?"

"I shall go to the gymnasium and exert myself upon the indoor obstacle array, as you and Teal'c have shown me."

"Very good. Just remember to pull your punches if you get into another kick-boxing match, okay? You've got more than a few unfair advantages when it comes to hand-to-hand combat," he said with a grin, waving a finger in the air in front of her face.

"I shall remember all that you say. But there is still a matter upon which I would like to speak with you," Morlothiel said as O'Neill began to walk toward the staging room where he would pick up his equipment.

Jack paused and half-turned, lifting the snap-cover over his wristwatch to check the time, "Okay, but make it snappy. I've got ten minutes—and if I'm late, the Marines will never let me hear the end of it."

Morlothiel caught O'Neill with her eyes and wove a spell. She held him as if in a paralysis, and in that instant time seemed to flow over and around them, passing by without touching.

Suspended as they were in this timeless instance, O'Neill somehow knew that they could not be overheard, nor even noticed by the personnel who walked close by.

Morlothiel spoke, "I know that you must go now and that I must remain here, but know you that soon you must take me with you through the Stargate."

O'Neill answered her frankly. "We can't take you home just yet, Loth… not until we can eliminate the threat…"

"It will not be to my lands that we travel, but to those on another world. I have seen this."

"_Seen it?_ What do you mean… like in a dream?"

"As close to a dream as an Elf can achieve, perhaps," Morlothiel agreed. "It is the way of some of my people to look ahead. While I have never been particularly gifted in the ways of prophesy…"

"Prophesy!" O'Neill injected.

"…nevertheless, when such knowledge comes to me, it has rarely proven false. The only question is in interpretation." Morlothiel lifted her shoulder and gave O'Neill back one of his patented shrugs. "I also wanted to give you a warning."

"To be careful? I told you, this mission is a cake-walk…"

Morlothiel interrupted him gently, "Beware the one who speaks in red."

"What? How cryptic is that! What's it supposed to mean?"

Morlothiel merely shook her head and repeated her warning. Then she released him from her eyes.

Jack O'Neill blinked and found that he was alone in the corridor. He looked around, but his Elf had disappeared like smoke through a vent. He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that he had ten minutes to get to the staging area. It was as if Morlothiel had not stopped and spoken at all.

He tapped the face of the watch to make sure it was still working. Then he shrugged and continued on his way; he still had a mission to complete.

"I just wish she'd teach me that disappearing trick," he muttered to himself, "It'd be great for getting out of those boring mission briefings!"


	18. Chapter 18 Noblesse oblige

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, Chapter 18  
Noblesse oblige** **  
**

General George Hammond had a headache. It was very late; rather than try to go home when he would not have time to do more than shower, change clothes, and come straight back to Cheyenne Mountain, he decided to simply stay on the base. Considerable experience had taught him to expect these all-night sessions, and he had on-hand spare uniforms for just an occasion.

As Hammond availed himself to the use of one of the VIP suites, he reflected on how he probably wouldn't have been able to sleep, even if he'd had the time. Things were just too hectic and uncertain to leave SGC right now, what with SG advance teams coming back with reports of goa'uld attacks on peaceful worlds. Villages and towns were being ransacked and the populations slain or enslaved, often in total disregard the fact that some these worlds were protected under the Asgard Treaty.

The Tok'ra, once Hammond had managed to contact them, had little to say beyond reinforcing this intelligence with a few rumors of unrest amongst the minor goa'ulds the System Lords had labeled as rogues. Messages sent to the Asgard had gone unanswered, until O'Neill sent one of his especially colorful tirades to Thor personally. _**That**_ had elected a response, but the imperturbable little gray being could only promise that things would be looked into as soon as a ship could be spared from the ongoing battle against the Replicators.

A message from the Tok'ra council had precipitated SG-1's latest mission, and George's mind was restless with a mixture of hope and anxiety; hope that O'Neill and his team could succeed in rescuing the Tok'ra operative and bring back vital intelligence concerning this rogue goa'uld, and the inevitable anxiety that the Tok'ra weren't telling them everything.

Hammond was reflecting on these anxieties as he walked back to his office. Passing through the command center, he saw something that brought both his thoughts and his feet to a halt. He paused behind the technical sergeant's chair and peered through the glass. "Has she been there all this time?"

"Yes, sir." There was a hint of amusement behind the Walter's spectacles that couldn't quite be hidden by the glare his computer monitor. "She's 'under the spell'."

Hammond nodded. The phenomenon was not uncommon; visitors and even personnel would sometimes stand and stare at the great metal ring, as if the mysterious symbols had some kind of hypnotic power. Routine maintenance shifts in the gate room were scheduled short on purpose, as technicians would sometimes forget their tasks and be found standing idle, just looking at the gate. Even Hammond indulged in this pastime, when the paperwork was cleared from his desk and the phone stopped ringing. It was easy to believe that there were races around the galaxy that believed that the stargate was magical; even knowing something of the workings of this magnificent machine, it still seemed mysterious and supernatural.

Hammond leaned forward and tapped on the glass. Normally the sound would be undetectable to anyone inside the gate room—the glass was extremely thick and designed to be soundproof—but George knew the sensitive ears of the Elf would still detect the sound.

Morlothiel glanced toward him toward him even before his movement had brought his knuckles in contact with the glass. He motioned for her to join him upstairs in the briefing room. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, but stood for a space of time, still caught in the unblinking regard of the great metal ring.

However, by the time that George had climbed the stairs, still nimble for all of his years and girth, the elf-woman was waiting for him in the briefing room. She stood facing the viewing glass, the upper arch of the gate was visible just beyond.

He joined her, peering down at the calm activity beginning in the vast room below as the first shift of technicians arrived to perform their daily duties. As he drew close to her, he felt his headache miraculously melt away.

⌂

Not that he didn't have enough to worry about—what with all the goings-on around the Stargate Network—but Hammond had also been more than a little uneasy about sending out his flagship team when he still had a wily Elf on the loose inside of his mountain. Only Jack O'Neill—and his team members, to a lesser extent—seemed to be able to exert any control or influence on Morlothiel. Even then, she tended to disregard any restriction placed upon her if she deemed it frivolous or unnecessary.

Hammond knew that Morlothiel had been slipping out of the facility. He had wondered at first if perhaps she simply couldn't comprehend the possible dangers of going out on her own. After the incident in Arizona, it seemed to him that she had become more cautious, and while she demurred to her restrictions she apparently made no efforts to leave unaccompanied. Then George had found out that she was still making regular and frequent trips up to the surface, managing to return before she was detected. How she fooled the cameras in her quarters was beyond his understanding. When monitored, she appeared to be there, but when the tapes were played back, her image was gone. George didn't have the time or manpower to spare to keep her in hand, and since he couldn't send her home either, he decided to turn his head and let her do as she would, trusting her to take care of herself. Short of hog-tying her, Hammond could not see that he had any choice.

His trust was not ill-placed. Once the guards had been taken from their posts outside of her room, the Elf continued to appear to conform to her restrictions; only Hammond knew that she still went out, carefully and never further than the immediate grounds surrounding the Cheyenne facility. Even the Norad personnel upstairs were unaware of her midnight meanderings.

Hammond had made one other concession regarding Morlothiel's weapon—that special sword that has so interested Daniel during their first encounter. Hammond had removed it from the inventory so that it would not be missed, and after receiving the solemn promise that it would never be seen, he had returned it to her. How she managed to carry the thing around unseen was just as much a mystery as her abilities to change her appearance and sneak past the Security Forces. The metal detectors ignored her, as did the video cameras and infra-red monitors.

The day that SG-1 had shipped out on their first off-world mission since her arrival, Morlothiel had watched from the control room, intrigued by the power and beauty of the Stargate. She had waited there for the entire 12 hours it had taken for them to return, watching the technicians and functions of the computers with an air of bemused curiosity. When SG-1 returned, she waited until after they had gone through the routine of cleaning up and debriefing before she pounced on O'Neill to share with her the details of the adventure.

It became her custom to visit the gate room at least once a day, ostensibly to see if her friends had returned. She sometimes lingered, loitering harmlessly in a corner while routine maintenance was performed, and when the gate room became vacant—as it was this morning—she would stand as if in communion with the thing, as if by her will alone she might make her friends reappear.

⌂

"Good morning, Morlothiel," Hammond said as he stepped up beside her. He had to resist an urge to bow; something about the elf-woman triggered such a response in nearly all the personnel who had come into contact with her, she was so palpably regal in bearing and appearance. For the first week she had been at the SGC, there had been a number of junior personnel who practically genuflected whenever she walked by. Either everyone had begun to get used to her, or she could somehow control the effect by an act of will—eventually things had settled down.

Still, when she was relaxed or distracted one could come upon her at times and see and feel a power coming from her, like heat from a light bulb or mist rising above a fall of water. Hammond could feel that power about her now.

Morlothiel turned toward him and made one of her graceful half-curtsy salutes. "It is early yet, General. Permit me to perceive that you have not rested this night."

Hammond laughed. "You're right… I haven't. Too much on my mind," he added with a half-grimace.

Morlothiel crossed her arms and the room seemed to darken; she consciously toned down her presence, having perceived that some of the SGC personnel were on their way toward the room. At this time, she would prefer not to be noticed so that she might converse with Hammond at length.

"I may not need sleep in the same way that you do, but even Elves grow weary of waiting. Will O'Neill and his band return through the great ring this day?"

"If they don't come back today, we should at the very least get a report." Hammond glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the minutes. "They are due for radio contact in just a few… " Hammond paused as Walter walked into the briefing room with a puzzled look on his face, carrying the morning reports. The short sergeant looked around, poked his head into Hammond's office, then turned to leave. "I say, Walter," Hammond chided his sergeant gently, "I _would_ like to read those."

"Oh, General! I didn't see you—either of you—standing there." Morlothiel turned her face away slightly, but Hammond still caught the slightly guilty smile on her face.

_What was she up to now?_ George thought.

"SG-1 is due to report in five minutes, sir," Walter said as he handed over the papers.

"Yes, thank you. I'll be down in a moment." Walter hesitated for a fraction of a second, then stuttered a 'good morning' to the elf woman before he backed out of the room and hastened back down the spiral stair. Hammond permitted himself a small smile. He was glad that he wasn't the only one susceptible to Morlothiel's charm.

He resisted the urge to offer his arm to her as he said, "Will you join us in the control room?"

Morlothiel nodded and followed the general discreetly, taking up her stance just behind Hammond as the stargate came to life just as the clock on the wall ticked down to the quarter hour. O'Neill's team was dialing in.


	19. Chapter 19 Elf Exceptions

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Part Nineteen, Elf Exceptions**

"A complete fiasco, sir… yes, those_** are**_ the words I plan to use in my mission report." O'Neill's voice was dripping with sarcasm, even over the radio transmission. The video screen was a scene of digital snow; their signal was being deliberately scrambled to prevent anyone from intercepting the communiqué.

"I take it that you and your team were unable to complete the mission," Hammond stated in his unflappable way.

"To the contrary, General—our little ally is safe and secure. However, he—or rather they—are insisting on being taken back to the Tok'ra base for debriefing."

"I thought that the Tok'ra were going to provide an agent to accompany you on the mission for the purpose of debriefing as soon as you all were securely returned to Alpha Site."

"They did—and _here_ we are!—but they're not talking. I don't know if they got a problem with each other or if the Intel is just too sensitive… but they won't cooperate with each other and they won't talk to us."

"If we send them back to their own base, it will be months before we hear a word of that intel," Hammond remarked.

"If ever, sir," O'Neill agreed bitterly.

"I would send SG-9 to help you out, but they are currently being tided up with diplomatic procedures on P-6336."

"Sir?"

"T'th'chuc'ah, I think, is the name of the planet."

"Sir, a question: Why do they have to name their planets with something that sounds like someone clearing their throat?"

Hammond smiled indulgently. Only Jack could get away with such outrageous statements; George knew he didn't mean to be disrespectful… generally.

"We don't need diplomats, sir," O'Neill went on, "We need some thumbscrews and a godda—"his words were lost amid a burst of strategically-placed static, so that those listening at the SGC caught only the end of his statement, "—inging like a canary."

"I don't like to be forced into this, since we agreed that the Alpha Site would be more suitable, but perhaps we should consider bringing them to Earth. Once they see that we are secure, they might be more willing to speak. "

"A great idea, sir—except for one thing," O'Neill's voice crackled as the radio buzzed with distortion. "Laurel and Hardy are flatly refusing to come to Earth."

"Did he say why?" Hammond asked.

"He seems to be under the impression that Earth has been compromised somehow. And believe me, I tried to get him to tell me what _**that**_ was about, but he ain't squawkin'."

Hammond said nothing, but O'Neill seemed to be able to hear the frown wrinkling the General's forehead. "Something you're not telling me, sir?"

"Nothing to be discussed over the radio. Colonel, bring your team home. Extend to our ally a… _**reinforced**_ invitation."

"No problem, sir." O'Neill replied smartly. "Teal'c's got a new wrestling hold he's wanted to try out for some time."

"Whatever it takes, so long as he can talk when he gets here, Colonel. Hammond out."

"O'Neill, over and out."

As the wormhole collapsed with a snap, Hammond turned to his technical sergeant. "Are the extra security forces that I ordered last night in place?"

"Yes, sir. No reports of unusual activity… so far." Walter's fingers flew over his keyboard as he answered. "Sir… how did you know what was Colonel O'Neill's report… about the SGC being compromised? If-if I can ask, sir?" he added uncertainly.

"Last night I received a phone call," Hammond jerked one thumb upward, indicating his office and the special telephone located there. He glanced at Morlothiel, who had stood by, silently observing. "The men who assaulted you and SG-1—the men who had survived—are now all dead." Though she didn't move a muscle, George could tell that she stiffened at hearing his words. "They were found still in their cells, dead of what appears to be cyanide poisoning." After muttering a 'Carry on, Sergeant' to Walter, Hammond gestured for Morlothiel to precede him back up the spiral stairs to the briefing room. "The people investigating released an official statement to the effect that they all committed suicide, presumably to prevent revealing what they knew."

"It has been some time since we captured them," she wondered aloud, once they had reached the room and were once again looking through the clear windows down upon the gate room, "if it were within their power, why did these men wait so long to take their own lives? Enduring captivity and interrogation for weeks only to succumb now… there is something about this that rings untrue."

"I think that the cyanide was smuggled to them after their capture… and that they were quite possibly forced to ingest it. There were some signs of struggle that the Medical Officer could not put down to post-trauma." Now George's glance at the Elf-woman took on an appearance of apology. "Morlothiel, I have to ask…"

Morlothiel held up a quick hand, anticipating his question. "I have not approached the prisoners. I have obeyed the restrictions that you placed upon me concerning them. I know that I am somewhat irregular in obeying your instructions concerning my … recreational parameters…" she confessed with a barely-penitent smile, "but I would not challenge your wishes in such a matter as this."

"Our efforts to interrogate them were not successful," George said ruefully. "I wonder if I should have given you the opportunity. Truth to tell, I was afraid that you wouldn't give them a chance to talk."

Morlothiel offered Hammond a mirthless smile. "You are very astute, my lord. I would not have allowed my fury at these men's actions to silence them, but my methods are assuredly _not_ within the parameters of your doctrine. If you had countenanced it, I might not have left them useful for any other purposes."

Hammond decided that he didn't want to know any details. "Colonel O'Neill should be returning soon. You may wait for them here, if you'd like." Hammond was struck with impulse, and added, "I'd appreciate it if you would be present for this debriefing."

Morlothiel looked mildly surprised. Hammond had always been firm about not letting her attend mission briefings; he didn't mind O'Neill telling her of his adventures through the 'gate, but mission briefings were business with no time for idle questions, and allowing aliens—even Elves—with no security clearance was a little too far outside regulations. Obviously, something had changed.

With a quizzical look on her face, she acquiesced to Hammond's request, "As you wish, my lord."

Hammond had a sudden desire to see the effect of Morlothiel's unusual charisma on a Tok'ra. As he went down the stairs to the gate room to meet SG-1 returning, he had to stifle a chuckle as he wondered if it might be against the Geneva Convention to interrogate an ally with an Elf.

_tbc_


	20. Earth Rule 523: According to Jack

_**Note from Loth:** I wrote this shortie to cheer up a friend... ((((Ada))))  
Please note that it does not necessarily fall in with the time-line of NQTLOTR as posted.  
_

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Earth Rule #523: According To Jack O'Neill**

Jack O'Neill steered his truck around his driveway and parked it near the back door. He had some things to unload that he didn't want his neighbors to see… or anyone else who might be watching. He parked, released his seatbelt, and slid out of the truck, making a show of stretching and fiddling with the ropes tying down the tarp which was laid over his supplies… all the while casting a wary eye about for potential witnesses.

Seeing nothing suspicious, he flipped over the edge of the tarp, "The coast is clear."

Morlothiel lifted her head. She lay nestled between the toolbox behind the cab and three paper sacks full of groceries. "Saving being chained up to an orc in a forced march, this is the single most uncomfortable mode of travel I have ever endured."

"Yeah, well… you probably would have been fine staying in the back of the cab," O'Neill said as she leaped smoothly out of the truck, "but I was afraid that Jackson was going to hit me up for a ride home… and he might have blown your cover. Er… discovered your hiding place and told Hammond that I was smuggling you off-base."

"Ah." Morlothiel accepted the paper bag that O'Neill handed to her, sniffing its contents with an expression of guarded interest. "What are these… substances?"

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Just wait 'til you try it… get inside!" he juggled one of the two sacks he was carrying to unlock the door, holding it open with one elbow while she passed inside. "Don't prejudice yourself before the cooking is complete! I can't believe they don't have Mexican food where you're from." Morlothiel gave O'Neill a strange look. Jack laughed and shook his head. "Sorry; a terrible joke: Taco Bell has built restaurants all over this planet… it's easy to forget that they haven't branched out through the galaxy yet… it's just a matter of time."

Morlothiel nodded absently. While O'Neill busied himself in the kitchen, she began to explore his home. While she found many things that were strange and of unfathomable use, she also discovered much that was comfortable and practical. She looked closely at the pictures framed in the den, her long fingers not quite touching the glass. She wandered into the bathroom, and O'Neill heard her laugh at something, but he was too embarrassed to ask what she might have found amusing.

By the time she came back into the kitchen, the meal was nearly ready, and Morlothiel's interest had peaked at the tantalizing aromas now emanating from the food.

O'Neill swatted playfully as she pinched off the edge of a tortilla. "Here, take the plate… it's hot!"

Together they took their plates into den, settling down on the sofa. Morlothiel set her plate on the table and bounced on the cushions a few times, a delighted look on her face.

O'Neill fetched two beers from the refrigerator, twisting off the tops and setting them on coasters in front of them. He picked up the remote control; in was nearly 7:00.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Are you sure that this is a rule of your people… that one must consume the spicy food of Mexico whilst viewing a recorded program of caricatures of yellow people parading inside a small grey box?"

"Yes, oh, yes… most definitely," O'Neill answered, pushing the button firmly. "Pass the salsa, would you?"

"Is it **supposed** to be _that_ colour?"

_Jack sighs_


	21. Chapter 21 Eyes Beyond Seeing

**Chapter 21  
****Eyes Beyond Seeing**

Morlothiel watched from her vantage point.

A part of her desired greatly to be in the gate room when the mighty wave roared forth, to feel again the indescribable energy and portent that poured over her, the way that it had that first time, back in her own world. Even though she had experienced it many times during her stay here in the human world, she never tired of reliving it. It was still one of the most vigorous and magical things she had ever felt, and no less exhilarating for repetition. Expectation actually seemed to enhance the sensation.

Still, there had been something unique about that first experience that had never been repeated. Morlothiel reflected on the possibility that the change had been wrought within her self. This idea made her somewhat apprehensive, but it seemed such a small thing that she soon dismissed the thought. Warriors carried no baggage that was not to the need, or of use, and worry and fretting were burdens too costly to bear.

One might suggest that it was merely a trick of memory; such recollections among men can sometimes be exaggerated or diminished by more pressing or impressive experiences. But that could not be Morlothiel's problem, for so it is with the way of all her people, to claim perfect recall of past and history, biased only by their own emotions.

Morlothiel was deterred from further pursuit of her thoughts by activity in the gate room, beyond and below her. The chevrons on the metal ring began to glow, the great unending circle of strange symbols to rotate. Power surged through the conductors and superconductors; all the gadgetry and _machina _that Sam Carter had once carefully explained to her as 'science'… and yet still seemed supernatural. Stray personnel scattered and retreated from the room, to be replaced by orderly ranks of soldiers armed with weapons and expressions without nonsense, preparing to repel any man or beast that attempted to enter uninvited into their world.

The anticipated surge of energy blew outward like an invisible wind just as the wormhole materialized. On the level of her existence unseen on this world, called the Other-place by the Elves in the mortal languages, Morlothiel felt the sensation of her hair being blown back as from a gale-storm, and a brilliant light flashed from the metal ring and then was replaced by drawing darkness, gathering like gravity those beings of lesser strength and pulling them into the vortex created by the path between worlds. Morlothiel was too strong to be drawn by such a thing. The humans never mentioned the phenomena, so the Elf-woman assumed that, as they appeared unconcerned or unaware of it, there would be no reason to mention it. She watched as tiny unseen things were drawn away and into the whirlpool, to drown or to be tossed up on the shores of distant places.

As before when she had stood as a witness to this event, Morlothiel could now see the elusive, lightly flickering presence of the Humans' own Other-place beings, standing like shimmering shadows of their owners, some brighter, some dim, some mottled in strange colours. She has yet to learn all the intricate patterns that a human soul could produce, so Morlothiel merely watched and noted the differences, wondering with distant curiosity what they all might indicate. So far as she had been able to determine through questions and observation, the brightness of the presence could indicate a focus of attention; those with less intense manifestations tended to have their thoughts elsewhere. She was pleased to note that the gate room personnel on the whole appeared to be concentrating on the tasks at hand.

Her eyes shone with the whirlpool glimmer as she waited for the figures to appear, taking their long strides through that tunnel. Two figures appeared first; Morlothiel recognized Sam Carter and Daniel. Right after they came through they paused and moved apart, so that when other figures came through the gate, they could flanked them in a protective wing… though whether they would be protecting the figures themselves or the men in the gate room _from_ them, Morlothiel could not be sure; their body languages sent mixed messages to her eyes.

Next, four people appeared through the gate, and Morlothiel, Elf of Cuiviénen, veteran of countless battles, nearly took a step back in amaze! The creatures accompanying O'Neill and Teal'c were strange indeed! As fixated and aloof as any Vanyar of Valinor she had met they were, but behind their blank countenances Morlothiel could see more. Spirit-fire as bright as she had known since leaving her home, but not one soul within each but TWO—a smaller, more intense light within the halo of the larger—and the colours of those smaller lights suggested that a focused and formidable intelligence dwelled within, separate from but in a position of control upon the lesser.

Morlothiel let her eyes close, and with her heart she looked upon those upon the platform. O'Neill was a sharp outline of white light; focused, intense, and pure—but with dark eddies swirling at the edges. Teal'c was a solid, golden shadow with a red tongue of flame licking his belly—the creature he carried cocooned within him a dormant, potentially-malevolent power. Sam glowed with a yellowish-amber shimmer, fine as filtered sunlight, with Daniel in passionate in rose and amethyst beside her.

Their guests, standing amid them like prized gems in a circle of precious stones, bore out like stars in the void. It nearly hurt the Elf to look upon them; they were beautiful, old and dangerous.

* * *

Jack O'Neill stepped though the event horizon, welcoming the feel of the hard metal frame that staged the star gate beneath his boots.

Automatically he checked his team to make sure that everyone who stepped into the wormhole had come out again—a long-maintained habit of which no amount of analyzing had been able to cure him. Next he cast his eye about the room, observing with a touch of approval the increased number of SFs—while blithely ignoring the little black bores of the weapons they held trained on him and his team, like the little threatened eyes of forest creatures startled by a noise. General Hammond was standing at the foot of the ramp; a comforting, predictable presence. O'Neill nodded ever so slightly to him as their eyes met; a silent signal of 'all's well'.

O'Neill then raised his eyes to the control room, but the person he sought—recently become as much a fixture in command center as little Walter or Sgt. Siler—was not there. Then his eyes dragged upward, and the cleft in his forehead deepened as he frowned.

Morlothiel was in the briefing room, standing by the observation glass, but she wasn't observing—her eyes were closed. Her hands were raised as if she were trying to press through the glass and her face was shining.

O'Neill's mouth dropped open as if he had been stunned. Teal'c noticed the direction of his glance and moved to place himself between him and the Tok'ra guests.

The movement distracted O'Neill and broke his fascination. He cleared his throat and continued down the ramp.

Before Hammond had the chance to extend a formal welcome, one of the Tok'ra tossed his head and spat, "I protest this treatment! Is this how you treat all your allies? I insist that I be permitted to contact the Tok'ra council!"

"I have already contacted them on your behalf. They are sending a representative to attend the debriefing and they should be arriving here in a few moments. We'll make you as comfortable as possible until then. Colonel—have your team escort our guests to the Briefing room."

"Yes, sir."

"That is **not** acceptable! I--"

"_Thank you,_ General Hammond." The second Tok'ra, his voice easily conveying his disappointment and embarassment concerning the behaviour of his companion, cut cleanly through the prostest, brooking no argument in his tone. "You make too much of things, Caeol. We are here."

"You are a trusting fool, Maglen!" the first Tok'ra spat. He gave Teal'c a worried eye when the large man moved suddenly closer to him. He scampered away and took refuge at Daniel Jackson's side.

"Um... this way," Daniel said gently, leading the way. Sam Carter caught O'Neill's eye and played escort to Maglen. Teal'c followed them.

O'Neill hung back for a word with the General. "I don't suppose the White House would authorize the use of thumbscrews, would they, sir?"

Hammond didn't smile, but his eyes twinkled with amusement at O'Neill's remark. "It's against SGC policy."

O'Neill raised his eyes again, but Morlothiel was no longer standing by the observation window. Hammond noted the direction of his stare. "I asked her to attend the debriefing, Colonel. I think that her insights might prove useful."

"This is going to be very interesting, sir. Who is coming from the Tok'ra council to help us with the interrogation... I mean, the debriefing?"

Hammond smiled. "Your favourite Tok'ra... Jacob Carter."

Jack O'Neill broke into a wide smile. "Oh, yes... this is going to be **great!** "


	22. Chapter 22 Unseelie

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, Chpt. 22,  
****Unseelie**

After a cursory examination in the Infirmary—which half of the Tok'ra pair submitted to after a token display of temper—O'Neill led the party to the briefing room. His temper was high and his patience was in shreds.

Jack O'Neill harbored some of suspicion for the Tok'ra; allies or not, he just couldn't help it. After what Carter had been through during the Jolinar episode, he couldn't really believed the whole 'we'd never Blend with an unwilling host' line that the Tok'ra preached of themselves. They had helped Earth, as well as saving his teams' lives and his own many times over—but always there was that tickle of doubt way down deep in his skull… and his whole spine twitched every time he heard that reedy voice and saw the flash in their eyes. They were just **so**... _Goa'uld-ish_.

He hid it as much as he could, but he could tell that he wasn't fooling anyone. During the mission he could focus on the objectives—do what needed to be done. But when they'd finally managed to extract the Tok'ra agent, he stepped back and let Daniel and Carter do most of the talking... until things had deteriorated to a certain point. Then he stepped in and let everyone know what was going to happen. It had felt kind of good, he reflected, unleashing a little of that pent-up anger. Now things could be slipped into the hands of the diplomats, and he could step back again and wait for the next meltdown.

Jack took his seat—as far away from both of the Tok'ra as he could get without _obviously_ appearing rude. Carter and Daniel began to discuss something in soft voices, Teal'c had paced to the far side of the room and was peering out the observation windows down at the gateroom. Jack suppressed an urge to join him; he folded his hands on the table and put on his practiced look of solemn patience, letting his mind wander.

Teal'c was standing almost where Morlothiel had been, maybe a bit father away. Jack wondered where the Elf had disappeared to and why he hadn't yet seen her; she usually met them in the Infirmary after a mission, eager to hear what adventures they'd had.

But this mission was different from the others. Hammond had told Jack that he had asked Morothiel to be present, but she had not appeared yet. Maybe he had asked her to lay low until Jacob had arrived-- Jack didn't like the idea of the Tok'ra learning about 'Loth. He could just imagine how they would rave about 'what a great host' she'd make, how they'd try to convince her to agree to...**Ugh!** he gritted his teeth at the _very idea_ of 'Loth with a snake in her head!

He felt a light touch on his shoulder; Carter was looking at her with those big eyes, asking silently what was wrong. Jack realized only then that he must have made some sound to echo his thoughts. He lifted his head in a sharp nod to convey that he was just fine, throwing a covert glance toward the far end of the table to see what reaction the Tok'ra had to his outburst.

Neither of the Tok'ra were paying the slightest attention to him. Both were gazing uneasily around the room, their eyes occasionally staring toward where Teal'c stood. Teal'c rotated his body slightly toward them, as if he felt the pressure of their gaze upon his skin. He lifted on eyebrow high. They cleared their throats and looked down at the table.

_Interesting,_ thought Jack O'Neill.

Hammond stepped out of his office then, and Jack rose immediately to attention, Carter moving only a fraction of a second behind him. Jackson, not military and never likely to become so, at least sat up a little straighter in his chair out of respect. Teal'c moved toward the table and stood behind his chair until Hammond nodded at everyone and seated himself.

As Jack moved to sit down again, he caught a flash of something from the corner of his eye; a bit of movement or reflected light, perhaps. When he looked again, it was gone

"Thank you for coming..." Hammond began to say, but he was interrupted.

"Your colonel gave us very little choice." The man sitting across the table from O'Neill said acidly. His voice held no trace of the usual resonance of the symbiote's speech. "I will have you know that I intend to go before the Tok'ra Council and protest the treatment that we have received! Forcing us to come here is nothing short of abduction."

Jack made the smallest noise, smothering his grin with one hand. Hammond glared at him, and he affected innocence. "I'm sorry, General. The irony of SG-1 performing an alien abduction struck me as slightly... humourous."

"There is nothing funny here, Colonel," Hammond said. "I would like to know who I am talking to."

"Yes, sir." Jack indicated the Tok'ra sitting closest to Hammond. "This is Maglen, the Tok'ra assigned to us by the Council to perform the debriefing."

The Tok'ra nodded politely to the General. His smooth voice was pitched lower than most human tones. "My host's name is Traegr. He and I are both pleased to be within the safety of your base."

"And this is..."

"I was under cover in a very delicate operation when your..." the angry Tok'ra uttered a word that was unfamiliar even to the educated ears of Daniel Jackson, but clearly did not sound complimentary. "... barged into the scene, destroyed my carefully constructed personae, and extracted me without permission or apology." The Tok'ra was nearly shouting, but Hammond remained calm and collected, patiently waiting. Finally, the man folded his arms tightly and said, "I am Falkin, host of Caeol. And I will **not** cooperate! You say this place is safe! I say that it is not... no place in Tauri control can be safe!"

"I'm sorry that you feel that way," Hammond said gently. "You don't have to tell us anything right now. The Tok'ra Council are sending a representative and once he gets here, perhaps you'll feel differently about sharing your information with us."

"Until he arrives, I'd like to introduce someone to you." Hammond raised a hand and waved someone forward. All heads in the room turned and a collective gasp went up; Morlothiel was standing in the back of the room. She appeared as if summoned into existence by Hammond's will.

The two Tok'ra stood up, shock and awe on both their faces. "What technology is this? How did you conceal this woman? We sensed a presence, but we could not detect..."

"She is an unusual person," Hammond said, and Jack thought he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much. "Do you agree that the room is secure, Morlothiel?"

"Very secure, my L—my General." Morlothiel smiled serenely. "And to answer your question, Falkin-Caeol... it is not technology at all.

"It is magic."


	23. Chapter 23 Quid Pro Quo

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, ch 23  
Quid pro quo**

"Who is this person?" Falkin demanded. Without the added resonance of the Tok'ra's voice, he sounded petulant rather than indignant. Both Tok'ra had risen to their feet in surprise when Morlothiel had appeared. Falkin edged behind Traegr as if to use his fellow Tok'ra as a shield.

Traegr-Maglen glanced back at him, annoyance and distain on his face. He faced Morlothiel and offered a formal bow of greeting. "On behalf of the Tok'ra, let me offer you greetings."

Morlothiel accepted his salutation with one of her eloquent nods. "I do not represent the whole of my people," she said softly, "but as a friend of the people of Earth I welcome you. As to your security, I swear by my hand and heart that you shall come to no harm while you are in this place."

"You must think that we are fearful and cowardly," Maglen said, looking askance toward General Hammond, "but our fears, while perhaps not justified in the company of our Tauri allies, are nevertheless hard to discard. Our people are hunted throughout the universe, and we have survived for centuries by secrecy and caution."

His glance shifted toward Jack O'Neill, who looked up from his doodling with a schooled expression of vacuity; he had hoped that his soft snort of disagreement had not actually vocalized.

"Until our other guest arrives," Hammond said, distracting the Tok'ra from his colonel before insult could be derived, "would you care to make yourselves comfortable in one of our VIP suites?" Hammond asked.

"We would prefer to remain close to the Stargate, General," Maglen said apologetically. "—if that does not disrupt your operations unduly."

Hammond nodded and excused himself. _If this was the reaction that Morlothiel produced in all the Tok'ra, she was worth having around just for the courtesy she could draw out of others,_ he thought wryly as he closed his office door behind him. He immediately picked up his red phone and waited for the operator to speak, watching the opera beyond his viewing window.

* * *

As soon as Hammond departed the room, Traegr detached himself from his fellow Tok'ra and approached the Elf. He felt an unprecedented level of fascination for this female, and Maglen was just as intrigued, though for perhaps the first time in their Blending, Maglen did not share wholly all its thoughts and feelings with its host.

If Traegr noticed his symbiote's reticence, he put it down to over-caution as he concentrated on Morlothiel. "May I ask how your home is designated?"

Morlothiel smile was coy, but her voice was not. "Some things are not suitable for an introductory conversation."

Traegr had flushed at her reprimand; Maglen laughed at him inside his head. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Morlothiel tilted her head a little, as if to look at the Tok'ra from another angle. In a softer, more affable voice she said, "Arda is how my home world was first named, though there are as many different titles that have been given down through the ages as there are leaves on a healthy tree." She lifted one hand in a fluid gesture, as if sketching the vision her words produced. The eyes of the Tok'ra followed her hands as if mesmerized.

Smoothly, she continued, "May I ask you about your particular coexistence?"

Traegr blinked. "Um, certainly."

"I have never encountered a being who existed within another that was of a—how is it said? Mutually beneficial nature? I do not mean to sound ignorant, but such things do not exist in my world. Of parasitic spirits I have heard, but never such a situation as I have learned that exists concerning the Tok'ra. How do I know which being answers my words, and do you always concur with your individual thoughts?" She lowered her eyes modestly as she spoke; her expression gave Traegr the sensation that his feet had just left the floor. "If my asking does not seem presumptuous or over-personal."

"No… not at all." Traegr drew in a belated breath. It was strangely warm in the room, suddenly. "We do have our own thoughts and feelings—as individuals. Our purposes most often coincide, and when they do not, well… the conflict can result in a state of anxiety for both of us. Severe disagreements, however rare, can lead to the choice of separation—"

_**"Traegr!"**_ Falkin-Caeol said his companion's name with a firm note of reedy caution; at the same moment, Traegr felt his own symbiote stir restlessly, and he realized that he was speaking a little too freely.

"I am sorry if my question is imprudent." Morlothiel said easily, offering the apology that it had not occurred to the Tok'ra to make when he had been equally indiscrete.

She moved away from Traegr, drifting toward the window as if she had lost interest in the conversation. Traegr followed her as if attached to her side, well and truly gaffed by her eldritch charm. Even Falkin moved toward them, though he remained several paces away, and his expression of distrust never faltered.

Watching the scene, it was all O'Neill could do to keep from whistling and applauding loudly with approval. He was rather glad that the goings-on in the briefing room were being monitored and recorded— watching the Elf in action was a lesson in alien diplomacy. He bit the inside of his cheek and remained silent with an effort, contenting himself with witnessing what he was beginning to realize was the Elvish version of the 'bright- light- and- rubber- hose' treatment.


	24. Chapter 24 Jacob

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Part Twenty-four: Jacob **

Jack O'Neill wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen next. Watching Morlothiel working the Tok'ra as if they were star-struck sophomores, he began to wonder how much of the elfwoman's magnetism had affected his team and himself.

He wanted to dismiss the idea as soon as it occurred to him, but long years of working and wading through military procedures and political protocols had marked him indelibly with the ability to look at everything with cold, hard objectivity. Regardless of how much he actually liked 'Loth; his mind rebelled at the thought of having been manipulated. And she did it better that anyone he'd ever met—he had to ask himself if he had been snowed, too.

Jack O'Neill did not wear his heart on his sleeve, but in the years since the death of his son he had learned to give himself more access to his true feelings than once he used. And his heart disagreed with his head most vehemently concerning Morlothiel. He felt that he _knew_ that she would not play him. His heart also warned him that this performance—so unlike the 'Loth that he knew—would be costing her strength substantially, even as indefatigable as she often appeared.

His eyes caught a movement; General Hammond was standing beyond the window of his office. He met O'Neill's eyes and with a subtle gesture he requested his presence; a flicker of a glance roped Morlothiel into the invitation.

Rising smoothly, Jack walked toward where Morlothiel stood bracketed by her pair of entranced Tok'ra, and inserted himself like a blade between her and Falkin. "Morlothiel. A word... ?"

As her attention focused on him, he became more intensely aware of it; the magnetism of her personality which came out of her body in waves of energy. But he was aware _of _it instead of being overwhelmed _by_ it —it parted and passed around him like the sea relenting before a granite prominence. Immune to her charm... and yet still he was charmed, but in a way that he could tell was true and uncoerced.

"Colonel O'Neill." Her relief at his interruption sparkled in her eyes, though to her enamored audience she seemed reluctant to turn aside.

"Excuse us, gentlemen, symbiotes," Jack said, in a voice too dry to give offense.

Protests died on the lips of the Tok'ra; the stargate activated just as they began to object. From his office door, Hammond spoke; "That would be the Tok'ra representative dialing in. Major Carter, would you kindly escort our guest up from the gate room?"

"Yes, Sir."

Falkin and Traegr exchanged looks, but remained in the briefing room with Teal's ostentatiously protective presence.

Daniel remained also, but did not attempt to engage either Tok'ra in conversation; he had become quite as impatient as O'Neill with the pair of them during the mission. Instead, he crossed the room to stand next to Teal'c and peered down through the observation glass.

Below, the great metal ring rotated in majestic grandeur, summoning and concentrating energy, bridging worlds with magic of its own.

Jack steered Morlothiel into Hammonds office. As he closed the door, he turned toward her sharply and said, "_**Magic?**_ I thought you said that Elves couldn't use magic."

"I did not say that Elves_ could not_ use magic... I said that they **did not**. And what I have done... it would not be called 'magic' on my world. There is no sorcery involved, nor any unclean practices." Morlothiel's smile was a little twisted, and from her tone of voice Hammond and O'Neill could tell that she was somewhat uncomfortable with herself. "My dear friends, I confess that I have been somewhat dissimulating in my interaction with your allies the Tok'ra."

"That's all right, Morlothiel," Hammond said gently, gesturing for her to sit down in one of the chairs that flanked his desk. "I asked you to do it."

The Elf woman settled into the chair somewhat more heavily than usual. O'Neill knelt down beside her with a concerned expression. "Are you okay?"

"Yes... it is a wearying maneuver. I shall be completely well in a few moments. It is good that you intervened when you did, Jack. I could maintain such an act for a while, but it does deplete me. I shall need strength anew if I am to do such again with this new Tok'ra who enters your stronghold now."

"That won't be necessary." George Hammond smiled. "You've done a magnificent job of putting Falkin and Traegr at their ease. Now that Jacob is here—and Selmac—things should proceed with more dispatch.

"We have a few moments before he arrives—and if I know Major Carter, she'll buy us a few more greeting her father—I am very interested in hearing your impressions, Morlothiel. Our guests... what did you learn from them?"

"They **are **frightened, my lord. This dread that Earth is not a secure place... there is no pretense in their discomfort; they genuinely believe that they are in danger. I could not, however, divine the source of this dread.

"The Tok'ra are quite different from any being I have previously encountered. The intelligence that lurks within—it imparts such wisdom on the mind of the host as I have only known in one who has lived many thousands of years. And yet, that wisdom seems--" Morlothiel paused, as if searching her mind for a translation of ideas into words, "I am not sure how to say it... it seems to be reined. Leashed. Controlled and slowly dispensed, such as a reservoir of water might be slowly released to nourish a crop... if I am making myself understood?"

Hammond and O'Neill both nodded, fascinated by what they were hearing. Morlothiel continued, "I could hear so much in their voices that was not communicated by their words. Much is being held back... but also, there is much that wants to be heard, if only safety could be assured. Perhaps this Jacob can give them the ease that they require to set their minds free and loosen their tongues."

"Do you get the impression that these guys--" Jack found himself speaking around a bitter taste in his mouth; his dislike for symbiotes could not be hidden entirely, and he didn't try—not in front of Hammond, who knew his feelings , or Morlothiel, whom he trusted. "Are these guys Falkin and Traegr... are they being controlled by their snakes? Er, symbiotes?"

"I do not feel it is so. They are blended into one mind, and while the intellect within may encourage, suggest, and disagree, the host appears to me to have the liberty of speech, thought, and movement. I am aware, however, of the _**potential**_." The accent that Morlothiel placed on that word caught both men's attention. "There is such potential for control. These symbiotes are very powerful... much more powerful than their hosts. If they chose... there would be **no** sharing."

"That is the difference between a Tok'ra and a goa'uld," a dry, firm voice spoke. A man was standing in the doorway of General Hammond's office, his hand on the knob; he had entered so silently that not even Morlothiel had heard him.

"Jacob." Jack rose and extended his hand to the man. It was taken easily and shaken heartily.

Jacob slapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "Good to see you, Jack. George." He passed his hand to General Hammond, and the two men greeted each other warmly.

Morlothiel sat and regarded this man. What she had learned of Tok'ra so far today, it was very little compared to what she learned in this moment as she watched him interacting with these two familiar men.

She knew that Selmac was the name of Jacob's symbiote, and where the other Tok'ra had burned brilliantly in her eyes like stars, Selmac's presence was like the warm glow of the welcome sunrise; intense, nurturing, and enlightening. When the man turned toward her to offer a greeting, he paused a moment, learning from her even as she learned from him. When his warm, rough hand encased her own, she trembled ever so slightly at his touch. But the warmth and honesty in his eyes reached her, and she quickly returned his greeting earnestly.

Hammond played host. "Jacob, this is Morlothiel. 'Loth, this is Jacob Carter."

"I see that you are indeed the father of Samantha. Well met! And greetings also to Selmac, who I have learned is a wise and honorable ally."

"Thanks." Jacob grinned at her. "I don't think we've ever received a more honest greeting. Even our friends here on Earth look on us with a wary eye." He spoke in a friendly way, without rancor, but Morlothiel could hear that there was some tension in him; she knew then that his Blending and becoming a Tok'ra was the cause of much tumult upon Earth, both with his once-close friends and family, as well as among those charged to safeguard the secrets of their people. In Jacob, Earth had lost a brilliant warrior, but had also gained a valuable and powerful ally.

Hammond was unperturbed by Jacob's remark. "Jacob, you're always welcome here. The only thing about you that makes me wary is when you ask me to wager when we play chess. You have an unfair advantage now."

"I've told you, George... Selmac doesn't play chess." Jacob laughed as he wrung his old friend's hand again. "He prefers 'Monopoly'."

"That had better be a joke, Jacob." Jack growled, but with a smile.

"It is. Forgive me for interrupting your conversation... and for eavesdropping. I take it that this is the lady that Sam told me about... your friend from the evergreen planet."

Morlothiel nodded. "This is a new experience for me. It is strange for a being such as I who has lived and seen many things, to encounter something wholly new. I hope that my remarks did not offend. In truth, I see now that many of my impressions can be attributed to the individuals, and should not be a reflection upon the whole—just as one must not judge a blade by its scabbard and scrollwork."

"Quite." Jacob gave Morlothiel another smile. He ducked his chin slightly, and when he lifted his head, Selmac spoke to the Elf. "I, too, have never met such a person as yourself, Morlothiel. You interest me greatly. I hope that before too long, we might sit and speak with one another. I would very much like to have you come to the Tok'ra base as my guest, so that you can learn more about us, and we of you."

"Hopefully we can do that soon, Jacob," Hammond said, "after we sort out this other mess. If that is okay with you, Morlothiel?"

"I would like that, General." The exchange of words had words erased the grin from O'Neill's face; he watched with a carefully neutral expression while Morlothiel inclined her head toward Hammond, then toward Jacob. "Thank you, Lord Selmac."

Jacob's head bobbed down and came up again, and he shot Hammond a huge grin. "I **like **_that_. I never got that much respect when _**I**_ was a general!"


	25. Chapter 25 Crossing Boundaries

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, ch 25  
Crossing Boundaries**

"George, is it alright if we use your briefing room?" Jacob asked. He glanced over his shoulder through the window at his fellow Tok'ra. "I have a feeling that Selmac can clear all this up if we can talk together privately for a few moments."

"Of course," Hammond agreed. "Jack, please ask your team to stand down for a little while—but stay close. Let the Tok'ra know that Jacob and Selmac will be joining them in a few moments."

"Yes, Sir."

All eyes in the briefing room were on them as they emerged. Before O'Neill spoke, he caught the eyes of his team and with a half-closed wink he let them know that things were going to be all right. "SG-1, stand down. Stay on the base and wait for Hammond to give us a holler. Those of you who wish can report with me to the commissary to debrief some cake." He stuck his elbow out toward 'Loth. "Interested?"

Morlothiel gave him a measured look. With a hint of a raised eyebrow, she placed a hand in the crook of his arm. Daniel and Carter were keen to spend some time in their labs, but Teal'c allowed that cake was an agreeable idea. They moved together toward the stair leading winding down to the control room below.

Traegr half-rose from his chair. "Where is Selmac?"

Jack turned toward the Tok'ra to speak, but just then General Hammond came out of his office. "Sorry… that's our cue to exit. People—" he and Morlothiel followed Daniel and Carter to descend the stairs, Teal'c drifting behind them like a meaty shadow.

As they walked past, Jack noticed Traegr watching Morlothiel. He felt a ridiculously sophomoric thrill of pleasure at the idea that the Tok'ra might be jealous. Out of pure orneriness, he covered 'Loth's hand with his own. Traegr flushed.

Once they were out of sight of the Tok'ra, Morlothiel removed her hand from his arm. Suddenly, Jack felt guilty for having used the elfwoman for such a childish maneuver. He slid his hands into his pockets and wondered if he should apologize to her.

One look into her eyes told him that he would be better to forget the incident entirely… and **never** repeat it. He nodded, both penitent and relieved that the situation was behind them.

Daniel and Sam had disappeared to their respective lairs. Outside of the commissary, Morlothiel paused. "O'Neill." Jack stopped and lifted his head, his expression open. "I have a request."

"Name it."

"I need—" Morlothiel paused for a second, and then she glanced down with an almost-guilty expression of her own. She spoke so softly that he almost didn't hear what she said. "I need to defy my promise to you and General Hammond."

Jack looked at her closely. "What is it?" he whispered. He moved his hand to take her arm, but she drifted beyond his grasp. "What's wrong?"

"I—I need to see the sky. To feel the sunlight. Or moonlight. I cannot recall which orb is overhead at this hour…I am—" Whether it was one of her tricks to conceal her appearance, that she let him see her at last, or something else, Jack became aware that she appeared tired—her face a bit drawn, her features without color. Even her gray eyes seemed faded, washed-out.

"I realize that you require sustenance after your long adventure, but I, too, need to replenish my energy. Food will meet only a portion of my requirement." She glanced around the corridor in which they stood; the gray walls seemed to be closing about her. "I beg of thee—release me from this _geas_… I must leave this warren for the free air."

"I'll take you up right now…" Jack began to say, but Morlothiel shook her head.

"General Hammond will soon summon you to council. Depending upon what you learn from the Tok'ra, you will then have to act upon that knowledge. If I am to be of any use—or even if I am _**not **_required—I must surface. For too long have these cold walls enclosed me. I feel as though I am wilting."

"Well, you look it… if you'll forgive me for saying so." Jack frowned, wondering what he could do to help. "What about Teal'c? He could go with you and watch your six. Er, your back, that is."

"Would not he be missed?" Morlothiel leaned against the wall then drew herself back as if the touch of the stone burned. She looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"I'll explain to Hammond… come on. Food will help a little now, and then I'll cover for you while you recharge your batteries."

Morlothiel agreed. She ate no more than a mouthful, and when Teal'c agreed to accompany her to the surface, she allowed herself a sigh.

The sound of her breath escaping seemed to snatch Jack's own from his chest. He began to worry about his friend.


	26. Ch 26 Best Laid Plans of Goa'ulds & Men

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, chapter 26  
The Best Laid Plans of Goa'ulds and Men**

A man wearing a business suit walked down a long corridor toward a set of double doors. The man walked briskly, anxiously smoothing the fabric of his suit and adjusting his collar and cuffs. However, when he reached the doorway, he hesitated; his hand hovered over the wooden panel in an aborted knock. After a moment, he seized the knobs with both hands and twisted, pushing both doors open.

Entering several paces into the darkish room, he cleared his throat and spoke loudly, "Sir, we have a report of movement in the Cheyenne Situa—"

Red-gold lightning lashed without warning through the room, piercing the man's forehead. He screamed through clenched teeth, falling to his knees on the thick carpet before tumbling over and writhing on the floor. The stream of light continued for an eternity that lasted nearly twenty seconds and left the man panting and retching.

"I understand that the humans living in this region of the world rebuke the title of 'Lord'—insisting upon addressing me as 'Sir'—but that in no reason not to show _a little_ respect when you enter my presence."

The man raised himself to his knees, panting. "Yes, Sir… sorry, sir. Your humble servant begs leave to speak, Sir."

"That's _better_," the voice drawled. "Tell me your message now."

"Two of the targets are leaving Cheyenne Mountain ."

"Only two of them?"

"Yes, Sir. The Jaffa and the visitor… we could acquire them quietly and use them as bait for the rest of them. Daedalus is sure to come looking for them."

"Daedalus? Who is this Daedalus?"

"Oh—sorry, Sir. That's the code name for O'Neill."

The goa'uld chuckled obscenely, turning his back on the man. "You humans… always **so** melodramatic." He did not see the man roll his eyes; the man's countenance was all abject obedience when the goa'uld turned and looked at him again. "No. I will not risk exposing myself too soon by taking only two of the targets. After that foolish ambush failed to acquire them, they will be more stealthy and vigilant as ever. We must wait until the perfect moment presents itself."

"Maybe we should wait until they are off-world, Sir?"

The goa'uld made a disgusted noise. "They are never so vigilant as when they are off-world! No… we will take them when their guard is down… on their home soil. We mustn't risk any lasting damage to my future hosts..." the goa'uld's lips turned up in a blasphemous smile. "Not until we have custody of our own sarcophagus."

The goa'uld turned his back dismissively on the man, who took the opportunity to begin crawling toward the exit. He didn't want to be the one who had to inform His Goa'uldness that a squad had already been dispatched to attempt to capture the Jaffa and his companion—regardless of his 'orders'.

Oblivious to everything but his visions of a grand future as Ruler of the Galaxy, the goa'uld began to pace his darkened lair, rhapsodizing his plans for dominion and glory. "I want them all… and I will milk their minds one by one until all their knowledge and skills are my own. And when SG-1 is in my control, the resources of those who control the Earth stargate will be mine, and I will have no other obstacles! The System Lords will cave before the might of the army that I will build… with six billion prime human slaves to convert into my Jaffa … and a host of unrivaled skill and charisma!—I will see them all bow down before me…"

The man crawled through the doors and closed them silently; he'd heard it all before. When it came time to kill this ridiculous alien and make the move to finally destroy all the goa'uld and have humans take their place as the dominating race in the galaxy, he hoped he'd be there to see some of them die. He rubbed the ruddy burn on his forehead and picked himself up from the floor, hurrying back down the hallway to report to his _**real**_ boss.

* * *

As soon as she and Teal'c had passed the last of the oblivious security guards, Morlothiel stretched her arms upward, letting the afternoon sun fall upon her face. It was a warm afternoon—somewhat late as the sun was already moving meaningfully toward the distant line of mountaintops that were the teeth of the Rocky Mountains.

Offering no more comment than an elevated eyebrow at the fact that the young airmen guarding the emergency exit had looked straight through them as if they weren't there, Teal'c stayed close to the elf as she moved across the parking area toward the green grass and trees that rose up beyond. There were a few vehicles in the parking area, but nothing that looked out of the ordinary.

Morlothiel breathed deeply; a long, slow, endless inhalation which she held within her body for an exhausting count, then expelled at last in a sigh. The sound of her breath reminded the Jaffa of the wild wind that used to carve the hills and twist the trees which grew near the village where he lived as a child. That sound carried him back through the long years to that moment; he closed his own eyes to briefly relive that moment, recapturing it and holding it in his heart.

It happened so quickly that neither Teal'c or Morlothiel had time to do more than turn toward the sound, and by then Teal'c's knees were already buckling, his hands clasping his throat where a dart had buried itself in his dark skin. Another dart had struck Morlothiel, but she ignored it. Whipping her sword from its sheath on her back, she sprang through the growth and shouted, rousing the young airman who was watching the exit. A dart struck him also, but not before he managed to reach and press an alarm button.

Morlothiel let her sword lead her as she dove through the undergrowth where two men had been concealed. She laid open their hiding place with a sharp sweep. One man raised a gun toward her. She kicked him in the face, then launched herself into the air with the momentum of the kick so that she landed on the grass behind the other man, her naked blade at his throat. The man made a strangled, alarmed noise, his eyes popping in surprise.

An arm reached from behind and grabbed Morlothiel's shoulder. Another sweep of the sword and suddenly that arm lay on the ground. A man's agonized scream pierced the air.

There were three men who were trying to pick up Teal'c and maneuver his torpid form into the back of an SUV. The sound of screaming made them look up, and in that split second they had enough time to show their own alarm before the unconscious body of one of their comrades was sent sailing through the air toward them. They dropped Teal'c and were borne backwards onto the ground in a heap.

The door to the mountain burst open and a stream of S.F.s came pouring out. One of the men managed to scramble from beneath the body of his cohort and dove into the SUV, throwing it in gear and stomping on the gas pedal. The wheels spun and the entire vehicle skewed violently to one side before the tires gripped the pavement and it tore away, rear doors swinging wildly. It smashed through the gate at the checkpoint and careened down the winding road, chased by gunfire that echoed around the peak of Cheyenne Mountain.

It was the count of only a few minutes before another group came bursting out through the door. O'Neill's sharp gaze swept the scene before he hurried to Teal'c's side. Behind him Carter, General Hammond, and Jacob appeared, Jacob having snatched a jacket out of Hammond's office to cover his Tok'ra garments.

Teal'c was already blinking away the effects of the tranquilizer. O'Neill patted his shoulder firmly and helped him sit up. Nearby, one of the S.F.s was tying his belt around the bleeding stump of a man's arm. "What the hell happened?" O'Neill demanded. "Where's Morlothiel?"

"Sir, I don't know. When we came to answer the alarm, Sgt. Scott was already down. He was shot with a tranquilizer dart of some kind. We saw this man," he indicated Teal'c, still lying unconscious on the ground, though one thoughtful S.F. had placed a folded jacket under his head, "being carried by those three," he pointed behind him, to three men who were sprawled spread-eagle on the ground, flanked by a team of airmen. "One man escaped in an SUV. We found two more unconscious men and this fellow," he gestured to the unfortunate man he had been performing First Aid on. "I saw no one else. Sir, we need to get him to a doctor. Something cut through his arm like it was soft cheese."

"'Loth." O'Neill bit off an unrepeatable word. He turned toward Hammond, who was calmly issuing orders to the S.F.s. "Sir, I think they've got her."

"Um, Sir?" another young airman interrupted the colonel, anxiously, "I saw the last man driving away. I think I saw... well, I'm not sure what I saw exactly..."

"Out with it, son," Hammond said, quietly commanding. Jacob was peering over his shoulder, Hammond's stars winking on the borrowed coat.

The airman stiffened and drew a deep breath. "Sirs! I know it's not possible, but I would swear that someone was on the roof of that vehicle. I saw them them clear as clear as the truck tore through the fence." The airman coughed, embarrassed to add, "Um... it looked like they had a... a sword?"

"So, they **don't**have Morlothiel after all, huh Jack?" Hammond said wryly. "I'd say Morlothiel's got _**them**_."


	27. Chapter 27 Hunting Season

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, chapter 27  
Hunting Season**

The wind bites my eyes as this metal beast hurls us down the mountainside. It clings to the road, but dances sharply from side to side, as if to throw me off into the yawning void. No horse in Middle-earth ever managed to shake _**this**_ rider—and this soulless creature will **not **succeed where so many others have failed!

I hear the whine and ricochet of warfare overhead. Dimples appear in the metal skin. Briefly I hope that they do not score me as well—a more inconvenient and annoying wound I've rarely had! And though Janet Frasier is indeed a gentle and skilled Healer, I do not relish another visit so soon.

I am not in my best form—the brief moment of sunlight and greenery I took was nowhere near enough to replenish myself—otherwise I would wrest control from this villain who has tried to abduct myself and friend Teal'c, and stop this downhill plunge. O'Neill demonstrated to me which lever is to be used to arrest forward momentum. I am certain that I could do it.

But now is not the time. A hunter may catch the first rabbit she sees running... or she may follow it to the warren. One rabbit will feed an Elf... three will feed a family.

My fingers are cramping as I fight to retain my perch. Fortunately, the metal is not impervious—it folds beneath my grip. I dig my aching fingers into the metal skin and duck my head as we veer close to the stone wall and dive into a tunnel.

A hunter's greatest weapon is her mind. I will wait, and let this creature-man take me unknowing into his lair. Perhaps I will uncover the entire nest, and at last put a stop to these threats.

I only pray that I can find my way back to the magic ring. We are heading toward the high, sharp hills that I've seen from a distance, on my lonely lookout. The stars will not guide me precisely back to my friends, but I trust. I trust my skills and I trust the hearts of those with whom I have dwelt these past months. We will find a way to gather, by one means or another.

The wind is eased, and while I am still enclosed in the darkness of a winding tunnel I let myself slide slowly backwards. There is an egress toward the rear of this metallic beast. I will secrete myself within and ride in relative comfort… if memory serves, and this horseless wagon is similar to the one in which O'Neill took me adventuring... there will be a place where I shall be able to hide and be unnoticed.

When the time comes, I shall emerge from this beast's belly and teach these fools how to stage an ambush!


	28. Chapter 28 Bird In Hand

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, chapter 28  
A Bird In Hand**

Tuck drove like a madman to get down Cheyenne Mountain before they could close the roads against him. He wasn't sure exactly what had gone wrong—they'd been assured that the tranquilizer would work, at least long enough to grab the packages. It would have been better, in his own opinion, to just kill the _jaffa_—but the Word had come down to capture all members of the SGC alive.. or at least mostly whole.

But _that_ female—whatever she was! Tuck shuddered as he vividly remembered the vision of her picking up Maxie as if he were a doll and throwing him across the parking lot. She was something—something not normal. More alien than alien, he thought to himself, chuckling on the border of hysteria.

He knew he needed to ditch the vehicle—they'd be on the radio to the cops, trying to box him in. But they had contingencies, even for when the operation goes as fubar as this one had. Charging recklessly down a side road, he slew the SUV into a braking slide when he reached the rendezvous, steering it so that it was bumper to guardrail over a sheer cliff. He stepped out of the vehicle, carefully keeping one foot on the clutch, and then when he was clear he moved his foot quick to shove the accelerator down. The truck surged forward as he threw himself down to the ground; it crashed through the guardrail and plummeted two hundred feet before exploding in a fireball at the bottom.

Tuck didn't take the time to admire the fireworks; he was already running. He grabbed a handful of dry brush and yanked the camouflage away to reveal a mousy grey minivan—complete with 'Soccer!Mom' and 'My Honor Student Can Beat Up Your Honor Student' bumper stickers. He climbed in and fumbled beneath the floor mat for the keys. As he started the engine, he thought he heard something. He looked over his shoulder, paranoid that someone had hidden inside the van. He saw nothing, but when he turned back and looked out the window, Morlothiel was there, looking back in at him, close and dangerous.

He gasped and reached to put the van in gear… but it was already too late. Glass shattered inward, and he was seized and dragged through the ragged hole the Elf had punched through the window.

* * *

A dark green F250 led a controlled charge down the main Cheyenne Mountain road. Jack O'Neill operated his truck as if it were a jet rather than a Ford, velocity and inertia and centrifugal force his major considerations. Only when they approached the base of the mountain and had to merge with other traffic did he relent his speed somewhat.

He still laid a trail of rubber as he pulled through the security gate, past the vehicles that had been prevented from driving up the road after the SGA ordered an emergency shut-down of the access points to Cheyenne Mountain. A half-dozen oblivious NORAD personnel stared out their windows as O'Neill sped past, a fleet of SUVs following at a more restrained pace.

Teal'c occupied the passenger side of the truck, a deeper-than-usual frown creasing his face, under the stocking cap he wore to cover his unique facial markings. He had made it clear that he intended to participate in the search, insisting quietly that he was unharmed by the attack, the tranquilizers' affect completely counteracted by his symbiote. Hammond allowed him to go with some reservations, but he trusted O'Neill to keep him out of mischief… or maybe he figured that O'Neill would need Teal'c to keep _**himself**_ out of mischief.

No reports had come back yet from civilian sources—but a bullet-ridden SUV would be noticed even in Colorado Springs. The fact that they'd had no reports yet suggested to O'Neill that they hadn't left the mountain.

His cell phone rang. Jack knew who it was. "O'Neill. Yes, General?"

"Colonel. We have a secure channel. Our SFs have found the vehicle. It was run off the cliff near the northwest access road. They can't get close enough to see if there are any bodies inside—"

"There won't be." O'Neill said firmly.

Hammond hesitated for a moment, then added, "There is evidence of another vehicle, probably a small van, that was recently in the area, but beyond the tracks leading to the road, there is no more evidence—other than a handful of broken glass and some blood."

"There's a chance she got away from them, Sir," Jack said, wrestling the steering wheel as he slid to a halt near the entrance of the access road. "We'll check to see if we can determine which way they went."

"I'll have the SFs conduct a search," Hammond said dryly, "but I imagine that they won't find Morlothiel until they want her too. It's pretty thick woods in that area."

O'Neill exchanged a glance with Teal'c. "If I know our Elf, General, she's probably tracking her wolves back to their lair… or possibly forcing that poor s_hmuck_ to take her there, willing or unwillingly."

"I concur," Teal'c said calmly. "She is used to hunting alone. She will seek the source of the threat and try to eliminate it." Teal'c opened his door and got out of the truck to begin searching the ground intently.

"I appreciate your optimism, Colonel," Hammond was saying, "but we're planning for all contingencies."

O'Neill had released his seatbelt to exit the truck, but he paused for a moment, reprocessing what he'd just heard. "General? Is there something I should know?"

"I'll update you when I have something definite. Keep searching… it won't be long before the civilian authorities are complaining about our crossing their jurisdiction."

"They **have** no jurisdiction!" O'Neill said angrily.

"Yeah, but how do we explain that to **them** without revealing more than we can?"

"Right. Yes, Sir. O'Neill out." Jack flicked the phone off and slid out of the truck. "What do you see, T?"

"The last vehicle traveling this road was very recently passed. There is still dust in the air, and the marks indicate that it turned that way," Teal'c pointed toward the city. "It was traveling sedately, lightly burdened. I would venture a guess that it is a light-colored vehicle."

O'Neill frowned at him. "What make you say that?"

"Dark or brightly colored vehicles would stand out more… I believe that they want to blend it with the population."

"That makes perfect sense; a vehicle exchange to throw off the chase." O'Neill slapped Teal'c on the back. "You're getting pretty good at this urban hunting!"

"It is mere common sense," Teal's said unassumingly. "Providing that it is the vehicle we seek that made these marks."

O'Neill looked at the ground where Teal'c indicated. All the signs seemed to point towards the _jaffa's_ interpretation… but there was one mark that didn't fit. "What do you make of this?"

"It is strange… it is not made by wheel or foot. As close as I can tell," Teal'c raised his eyes to meet O'Neill's, "it appears to be the imprint of a man's face."

"That could be writing," Jack said, pointing to an area near the strange print, where thin scratches were delineated in the soil. "It looks something like the chicken-scratches that 'Loth has on her BFK."

Teal'c leaned close to investigate. "I think you are right. Daniel Jackson should see these marks. Perhaps Morlothiel has left us a message."

"I can guess what it says," Jack muttered as he reached for the radio, " 'Gone Hunting... don't wait up for me.'" He grinned in spite of his anxiety, then thumbed the radio to call Daniel to the scene.

tbc


	29. Chapter 29 Under Duress

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, Chapter 29  
****Under Duress**

Tuck was by no means a religious man, but he found himself muttering half-remembered prayers under his breath while he was driving. Sweat was beading on his forehead and running down like tears, stinging in the cuts on his face. His shirt had adhered to his back and he felt as if he was sitting in a warm puddle. The hellion female was right beside him, watching his every move with eyes that seemed to look through him. He was convinced that she could, actually _see through him_, or at least could read his thoughts somehow.

He chanced a glance in her direction. She sat sideways in the seat, focused entirely on his movements. She seemed to be completely relaxed… unconcerned, calm; impartial. Except for her eyes. Her eyes were all attention and alertness.

His one attempt to escape had been thwarted; he had actually jumped out of the vehicle before they had reached the highway—but she had pounced on him and brought him down in the dirt before he'd made it more than four feet. Then she's stood on the back of his neck, while he lay panting in the dust, and scratched in the dirt with the point of a sword that looked sharp enough to whittle steel. He didn't know what she was writing… but he got the message.

She'd let him up after that. She never said a word to him; he knew what she wanted. He was well-paid to risk injury and imprisonment, but no amount of money made it worth being skinned alive. Besides—he was supposed to bring her there, wasn't he? That had been _**the job**_…

So he drove, but the cold custard of cowardice that was filling his belly galvanized him to look for chances to turn-over the situation. He considered wrecking the van—but he suspected that he would do more damage to him than to her. He might stall, drive in circles, or even go to a place where he could lose her—a crowded public place where she couldn't kick his ass without drawing a lot of attention. But he didn't want to be arrested, either. He needed a crowd of the right kind of people…people on his side. He could figure out no other option than to take her to the rendezvous and hope that he could find back-up there.

She was still staring at him, and it was giving Tuck the creeps. He began to heartily wish she'd just let him go—that she'd jump out of the van herself—or simply disappear. He dashed bloody sweat from his eyes as he steered through traffic.

He furtively cast his eyes sideways toward her again—and jumped as if given an electric shock: She was gone!

A part of him knew it was impossible for her to have gotten out so suddenly—but that part of his brain was seriously in the minority. A wave of relief and adrenaline that swept him; he felt that he'd somehow dodged a bullet. The van lurched as he drove off the road and bounced along the curb; he wrenched the steering wheel to keep the van out of the ditch. Recovering, he stomped on the accelerator and left two streaks of black rubber smoking on the asphalt.

* * *

A highway patrolman noted the erratic behavior of the vehicle, but as he wasn't breaking any speeding laws and had seemed to recover control, he didn't pull him over.

He did, however, report a description of the driver and truck, license plate, location, and direction.

* * *

"We've got a lead." Hammond's voice announced over the loudspeaker on Jack's cell phone. "A patrol car reported a suspicious vehicle on Overlook Road."

"We're not far from there, Sir."

Jack twisted the wheel, sending his truck into a 180. Teal'c leaned into the turn calmly, but gave O'Neill a glance of mild reproach.

Jack saw his expression. "Don't start with me, T… Ford doesn't install inertial dampeners in their half-ton pickups. Yet."

The eyebrow descended a fraction as Hammond spoke again, "Doctor Jackson is working on the writing you found. Major Carter is collaborating with her father on an alternative plan." Jack translated this as '_Carter and Jacob were trying to get a Tok'ra transport ship into the area'_.

"That may be very useful, Sir. Have Daniel let me know as soon as he has something."

"We're trying to reestablish visual contact of the vehicle through the local police. Locate a Captain Vaughn at Ridge and Overlook Circle to coordinate our search. Our cover story is that the van the man stole has sensitive documents in it… the police have been instructed to observe but not to apprehend. We are authorized to act, but only in cooperation with the police."

"Yes, Sir."

"And Jack—?"

"You don't need to say it, Sir… I'm aware of the potential for a breach in our security. We'll try to keep the impact as small as possible, but the cops'll have questions… we might need to borrow Davis from the Pentagon to help smooth things over…"

"I'm ahead of you there, Colonel. Fortunately, Major Davis was in Nevada when I placed the call… he'll be here as fast as the Air Force can fly him. Good luck… or should I say… good hunting."

"Thank you, General."

* * *

"You people sure are going to a lot of trouble to find one man… makes me wonder just what he's got that you don't want anyone to see."

Jack O'Neill had been in the company of Police Captain Vaughn for perhaps five minutes… and it already seemed that the acquaintance was far too long. She was a tall, red-headed woman, built like a torpedo in more than a physical sense; when O'Neill and Teal'c had arrived at their meeting point, she'd homed in on Jack immediately, firing questions at him and managing to find a sexual subtext in everything he said. He despised her with a passion he usually reserved for the Goa'uld.

They'd gotten off on the wrong foot from the beginning, he supposed. He had made the mistake—a common but non-malicious assumption on his part, that the person he was supposed to meet—this Vaughn character—was a man. So when they'd arrived, Jack walked up to the first person he saw.

"Can you tell me where I can find Captain Vaughn?"

The person turned around; red hair spilled down her shoulders, framing an arctic complexion with large frost-grey eyes. The eyes looked him up and down frankly, leaving him with the urge to check to see if he'd forgotten to put on his pants. The lips— painted a lurid shade of red that, in his opinion, should be reserved for fire trucks and stop signs—curled up in an approving leer.

"Yeah, I can… and I can tell you where she'd like to be half an hour after she gets off work today, handsome."

"Excuse me?" Jack tried to keep the expression of distaste off his face… for diplomatic reasons, of course. He opted for obliviousness. "Captain Vaughn. I'm with the Air Force… Colonel—"

She interrupted him, openly disappointed. "Okay, okay… business _first_." She gave him an unrepentant smile then cast her gaze over Teal'c. "Hmmm… a two-for-one special. I should have joined the Air Force."

Jack turned his choke into a cough. "Can you give us a report on the vehicle, Ms. Vaughn?"

"Call me Tonya. I insist. Colonel—?"

"O'Neill."

She gave him another visceral smile. "Is that what your parents called you?"

"No," Jack snapped before he could stop himself, "but it'll do. Can we get on with this? This is a very sensitive situation…"

"Yes, yes… very well." Vaughn wiggled over toward the squad car and spoke to the officers inside. Making sure that Jack had a clear view of her backside, she thrust out her hip and called over her shoulder, "The van has been spotted near Industry Road. Why do you want this guy, really?"

Jack frowned at her. "There is sensitive material in the van he stole—"

"That's what we were told," she said cynically. She walked back to his side and leaned toward him, wafting a scented cloud of cinnamon-scented perfume, and whispered conspiratorially, "It comes out a little too easily… too well-rehearsed. What is it really? Weapons? Bio-chemical warfare? Radioactive material?" Her expression changed to a mockery of wide-eyed alarm as she suggested, "Terrorism? Come on…you can tell _**me**_."

Jack gave her a very cold smile. "Yes I could… but then I'd have to shoot you." _Which is a rather appealing idea,_ he grumbled to himself.

He turned away, intending to get in his truck and get to Industry Road, but the cloud of cinnamon followed him. Jack stopped. "You're not going with us," he said bluntly.

"Yes I am, handsome, so get used to the idea." The vixen was about to climb into his truck. She turned and waved a radio at him, "Your General Hammond made it clear, did he not, that you're working with the police on this thing. This is **our** jurisdiction… _you _get to make the apprehension, but **we** are going to provide backup. The public must be protected."

"Well, you can protect the public from the back of the cab!" Jack snapped, jerking his thumb in a sharp gesture. Vaughn pouted, but obediently climbed in the rear of the cab.

"God help us," Jack mumbled, as he slid behind the wheel.

Teal'c—_Bless him for breaking his warrior's silence, _Jack thought—turned and said over his shoulder, "Please secure yourself, Captain Vaughn. The law does not require that rear passengers use seat-belts, but it is advisable when—" The rest of Teal'c words were lost in the roar of the truck's engine and the screaming protest of the tires as Jack pushed all his frustration into the gas pedal.

_--tbc_


	30. Chapter 30 Entrapment

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, Chapter 30  
Entrapment**

The man might have appeared completely out of place in the warehouse, if there had been any passers by to see him. As it was, the only people who did see him were the men he employed, and they were too smart to offer comments about his expensive suit. They were too busy for idle talk, shifting materials, clearing the huge space. Dust of years rose in small clouds with each step. It clung to their dark garments, turning everything a nondescript shade of gray.

He stood, his thin figure cutting a sharp silhouette in the sunlight that spilled through the open doorway, so thick with dust-particles that it appeared nearly solid. His shadow stretched far into the room; the men were so wary of him that they avoided even stepping through the darkness he cast. The gray dust settled on him, dulling the shine on his shoes.

He wanted to glance at his watch. The muscles along his jaw trembled under his pale skin. He restrained himself also from rubbing the painful mark that flared like a burn across his forehead—the mark left behind by the goauld's hand-device.

Unlike a burn where the skin was left tender and blistered, the pain caused by the device was felt deeper, as if the brain itself had been scorched, and it was not heat or the terrible ache he felt that made him uneasy—it was fear. The device seemed to reach inside his skull and awaken memories of fear. It isolated these feelings, amplified them, and caused them to fill his mind so that he knew nothing else—only fear so acute that ordinary pain had been a welcome relief.

He did not try to comfort his aching head. He stood and watched and waited. A radio buzzed in his ear, which he listened to but did not respond. Finally, he could hear the growing rumble of an approaching vehicle. He half-turned and signaled to the men around him; they spread out and prepared their weapons, crouching down behind crates and boxes. He glanced skyward, seeing nothing but not really expecting too, before he moved a few paces to the side of the doorway, where he melted with his shadow into the semidarkness.

* * *

I am weary. I have been a fool to allow myself to become so drained. The stamina of the Elves is said to be inexhaustible, but it is not so; the tallest trees bend in the heart of winter.

It was in my heart to find the source of this threat and eliminate it, but I know now the folly of my action. This man who I have intimidated, he means to take me to a place, and there I had hoped to end this, but I realize now that I may not be able.

If this were my world and these men Orcs or dark men, I would slay without hesitation. However, in my world still I might pause; the advantage in this confrontation is not mine...even were I at my full strength.

I have promised O'Neill that I would kill no more, but I have already broken that promise. If I return now to the mountain they will send me home—a not altogether unpleasant thought—O'Neill and Hammond have both made clear that I am sought by some shadowy tribe. Perhaps my leaving would be a simpler way to stop these attacks.

The thought do not rest well with me. I do not turn my back to my enemies, and I do not leave my friends to fight my battles.

This man does not see me anymore. His heart is aflame with fear. But I sense that there is some deeper fear in him of which I am not the cause. When he suddenly wrenches the wheel of the carriage into a sharp turn, I can tell he has broken. He smells like an animal trapped; determined to reach freedom before succumbing to death. I cannot now judge if he will take me where I want to go.

We have entered a maze within the city, surrounded by unlovely structures; flat and grey and cold. My hand closes in the lever that opens the door; I intend to spring free and find my way back to my friends.

A loud noise tears the air in front of us. We lurch to a panicked stop to avoid a massive metallic monster which slides slowly past, still emitting its screaming siren. The flashing lights are blinding; I turn my head, eyes dancing with painful spots from the stabbing lights.

And suddenly we are enveloped in radiance. My whole head seems filled with it, stars igniting behind my eyelids. My hands work themselves and I would leap out, but beyond the open door I do not see the howling streets we were once riding through. We are surrounded by rings of light descending in tight circles, and beyond them I could see nothing familiar.

Instinctively I draw back and watch as the door is carved away as neatly as if by a falling guillotine.

I hear the man beside me make a terrified sound which was abruptly silenced. He is no longer there. Not all of him, anyway—only his right arm and part of what looked like his leg remained, oozing blood. The rest of him—as well as the side of the carriage in which he had sat—was gone.

The lights have disappeared, but my eyes are still dazzled. As I step away from the wreck of meat and metal, my feet brushed a strange circular pattern on the floor. The sounds of my movements bounced back to me in strange echoes from close walls.

I wondered, as I stood in the dimness of the room, if I had indeed been devoured by some strange beast. A strange smell filled the air—an alien smell—I grip the hilt of my sword and wait.

I hear a noise and turn, blade drawn level to my eyes to deflect a killing blow; but all I can see is a low opening, near the floor and very small. No monstrous beast, a sphere appears, no larger than a hedge-apple; it makes a metallic sound as it rolls forward. I step aside, circling, carefully avoiding its path.

It rolls in a smooth arc, following the path of the marks on the floor, a blinking light winking as it turns. Like a crazy eye, it wobbles slowly to a stop, staring upward.

And then it begins to scream. A noise that I have never heard before; it turns my bones to jelly. Covering my ears does not keep the sound out; it gets in through my eyes and the pores of my skin. There is nothing I can do to fight off this assault but withdraw into the darkest corner of my own mind.

Distantly I hear the ringing of metal as my sword slips from my fingers. My last conscious thought is a wish—for a glimpse of trees and the sound of a river cutting through the green hills of my own lands.

* * *

O'Neill regretted almost immediately allowing Vaughn to ride with him and Teal'c. Her perfume mingled with the odor of leather upholstery, creating a noxious scent. He rolled the window down a crack to let in some fresh air, which made Vaughn complain loudly that he was destroying her hairdo. Her voice was as annoying as her perfume.

Also, he and Teal'c could not talk openly in front of her—she lacked the proper security clearances. Radio contact with Cheyenne Mountain was out of the question while she was listening in. If he had to, he'd stop and toss her out. He prayed for that to happen. Until then, he and Teal'c rode without speaking.

Maddeningly, Vaughn took their silence as an invitation to carry the conversation. Ignoring the seatbelt, she leaned against the back of the bench seat and breathed in his ear as he drove. Her own radio, which never left her hand, crackled and buzzed; she waved it as she talked. Jack caught sight of Teal'c clenching his jaw.

"Sit back and shut up, will ya?"

Vaughn abruptly stopped chattering. "What did you say to me?"

O'Neill looked up, his face a play of innocence. "Huh?"

"You told me to shut up!"

"Did I?"

"Yes! Is that any way for you to talk to someone that you're supposed to be working with?"

"I don't think I did say that," he said. He looked at Teal'c. "Did I say that?" His eye flicked in a wink at the jaffa.

"I heard nothing," Teal'c lied transparently.

Vaughn set her jaw and glared at Jack. She drew a breath to snap at him, but her radio crackled again.

"The package has been acquired. Proceed to Commerce Drive, warehouse district. Code 7786. Dispatch out."

O'Neill glanced up to see Vaughn in the rearview mirror. She moved her radio closer to her red mouth. "10-4. Daedalus, Martin. Vaughn out."

"What was that about," O'Neill demanded.

"Cop talk," she said dryly. "Turn right on Plymouth Avenue." She sat back and crossed her arms, staring out the window with a piqued expression.

O'Neill would have enjoyed the silence, but his instincts were buzzing at him. He looked across at Teal'c, whose expression communicated to Jack that the jaffa was having the same doubtful thoughts that he was.

He steered down Plymouth. Warehouses lined the street, massive semi trucks moving and idling along the busy road. He maneuvered his truck through without reducing his speed. Once clear of the majority of the semis, he saw that the road ended in a cul-de-sac about 200 yards ahead; here he was forced to slow down.

The sound of a fire engine's siren wailed nearby, but there was no sign of flashing lights. The height of the surrounding buildings made Jack feel as if he were in a box canyon—a disturbing notion.

"What the hell, Vaughn! This is a dead end!"

"Turn through that warehouse bay," Vaughn said, pointing ahead. "It's a shortcut through to Commerce Way. Your van was spotted there, just a few minutes ago, apparently stalled in the street."

O'Neill's radio crackled to life. "Colonel—" Vaughn thumbed her radio just as Hammond began to speak. His words were lost in static.

"Damn it!" O'Neill grabbed his radio mike. "Please repeat, sir." Only static answered him. "Turn that damn thing off, will ya?" he growled over his shoulder at Vaughn.

"This is a bad area for reception," she muttered, still annoyed with him. "The mountains have been known to block transmissions."

"Well, mountains don't block satellites," he retorted, reaching for his cell phone. He flipped it open, but the phone was dead. "What the crap—?"

"Turn here!" Vaughn repeated as they drew close to the open bay doors. "My men are prepared to close in on my word."

"Tell 'em to stay back!" O'Neill said as he braked and spun the steering wheel to take them into the warehouse.

He could see the street through another wide doorway beyond the darkness within. There was no sign of security or personnel, which seemed strange to him. Who left a warehouse gaping open on a busy street—even an apparently empty one? He stopped the truck before it entered the doorway.

"O'Neill, this situation has an odor," Teal'c's murmured.

"Teal'c ol' buddy… you took the words right out of my brain." He tossed the phone into the seat and tried the radio again. "Sierra Gulf One-niner to Sierra Gulf Command. Come in." More static.

Morlothiel was somewhere on the other side, Jack thought, staring through the dusty warehouse at the bright square of light that was the other exit. As much as he knew she could take care of herself, a part of him wanted to find her and protect her.

Clenching his jaw, he put the truck in gear and stomped on the gas pedal.


	31. Chapter 31 Hitting the Fan

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, ch 31  
Hitting the Fan**

"I don't feel as if I'm doing much good here, George," Jacob said.

"I'm grateful that you stayed. You could have left when we sent your agents back to the Tok'ra base," Hammond told him, passing him a cup of coffee.

Jacob paused for a moment before he picked up the mug. "Just one, I promise," he spoke softly, as to himself.

"Jacob?" Hammond raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Jacob muttered, sipping the coffee. "I wanted to help with this situation you've got. There's something very fishy going on… and from what you've told me, some of what the Tok'ra have heard might be true. I think you guys have a serious leak in Stargate Command."

"Apparently," Hammond said dryly. "I wish your men could have given us a name as well a warning—"

Footsteps rang out as someone came running up the stairs to the briefing room; Technical Sergeant Walter Harriman had a sheaf of paper in his hands, which he turned over to Jacob Carter after a nod from the General.

"Sir! We can't reach Colonel O'Neill by radio or cellphone," Walter reported.

"Have we lost contact with the other teams?" Hammond asked, worried.

"No sir. Major Carter thinks that he's the only one being jammed. She's trying to boost our signal to break through the interference."

"Find out what the last location he had for Colonel O'Neill before we lost communication... he was supposed to be meeting up with local law enforcement. Find out if they have any information for us." Walter nodded and hurried to get his General some answers.

Jacob glanced up from the papers he was reading; there was a gleam in his eye. "This incident described in Angel Canyon… this report says that the suspected objective was to kill or take captive your 'visitor'—presumably Morlothiel." Jacob rattled the papers pensively. "What if the target had been SG-1 itself? It doesn't read like they were trying to take prisoners that time."

Hammond frowned. "If that was their primary goal, why attempt to abduct Teal'c and Morlothiel today with tranquilizers?"

"What better way to draw out O'Neill than by using live bait? Anyone who knows anything about Jack knows he'd go to the ends of the galaxy to protect his people."

"Then there may be a plan to lure out Dr. Jackson and Major Carter, too." Hammond growled. "Let's hope that Jack is on top of the situation. He's got the police department backing him up… but he's also got Teal'c."

Jacob was frowning at the reports again. "This reeks of a goa'uld. George, I'd like to call in a favor with some friends of mine," he added thoughtfully. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the big metal ring filling the room beyond, "Can I use your phone to make a call?"

* * *

Sam Carter sorted through a toolbox filled with tools delicate as medicalpage { size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } -- instruments, choosing a screwdriver no larger than a darning needle. She absently wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before diving back under the instrument panel. That is where Daniel found her when he came in, open books overlapping his arms and an expression on his face that was a mixture of wonder and frustration.

"Sam, I—oof!—" Daniel tripped over her legs and went down in a flutter of paper. Propping himself on his elbows, he straightened his glasses and went on as if nothing happened. "There you are! I've been working on that message that Morlothiel left scratched in the dirt for us… I think I can transcribe it. It's brilliant! The shapes of the letters actually represent how the mouth is positioned to pronounce—"

"Daniel," Sam interrupted, her voice slightly muffled by the equipment she was under, "I'm a little busy down here…" something clattered under the cabinet.

"Oh, sorry…" Daniel ducked and tried to see what she was doing, "what can I do to help?"

"Other than not walking on me? Not much," Sam said. "Can you tell me which of the lights on the console are blinking red?"

Daniel lifted his head and peeked. "None of them."

"Hmph!" Sam sounded surprised. "Which ones are green, then?"

Daniel peeked again. "None of them."

"What? Some of them have to be green!"

"None of them are on… I don't think there's any power; the screens are dead, too—Oh! Now it's come on! Okay… everything's green except for the one on the far left. Hey, aren't you supposed to unplug electronic stuff before you poke around inside it?"

"Daniel!"

The tone was warning enough to the young archaeologist. "Okay! Sorry… I forget sometimes that you're a rocket scientist!" He backed up quickly as Sam suddenly surfaced, thrusting herself out from under the panel. As she examined the lit panels, she muttered a word that made the tips of Daniel's ears turn scarlet. "SAM!"

"There is nothing wrong with our instruments! The interference has to be external! But a localized jamming device… it would have to be very close to Colonel O'Neill's receiver—I mean **close****!**—for it to interfere with his signal and nobody else's! The device would have to be virtually in his back seat!"

Daniel picked up his books and set them aside. "Maybe it is!"

Sam sighed, returning her tiny screwdriver in its slot. "You were saying something about a translation?"

"Oh, yeah! The note Morlothiel left... I think I've figured out the structure of the alphabet. Using the photographs I'd taken of the scrollwork on her sword, I've figured out that the letters are virtually pictographic! The position of the tongue and teeth determines the shape of the consonants... the vowels are diametrically--"

"Daniel," Sam closed her eyes, massaging the bridge of her nose. Suddenly she understood how O'Neill felt when she technobabbled at him. "What did her note say?"

"Ah... yes. 'Following a rabbit to its warren will not feed the village'. Or something like that." Sam stared at him blankly. "I think it is a variation on 'Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him to fish and you feed him for the rest of his life.' I'm not sure what context..."

Sam caught on quick. "She's telling us that she's trying to find the people behind these attacks."

"She could get herself killed! If the Tok'ra are right... we're talking about a Goa'uld! She's got no idea what to expect! And I don't even want to_ think_ about what would happen if they chose her as a host--" Daniel gulped and stared at Sam.

She thrust the radio into his hands. "Keep trying to reach Colonel O'Neill. I need to talk to Dad."

* * *

Tanya Vaughn yelped as she slammed into the bench seat as Jack O'Neill launched his F250... backward.

The tires screamed and roiled with smoke. Jack wrenched the steering wheel, whipping the truck into a turn that left black marks on the pavement. Vaughn bounced off of the seats like a pinball. Her radio flew out of her hand and struck the windshield; a spiderweb network of cracks radiated outward. The plastic casing of the radio shattered.

Jack's radio, however, suddenly began working perfectly. Daniel's voice filled the cabin of the truck. "....ammit, Jack! Come in! How can I tell if this thing is working...?"

O'Neill was too busy to answer at that moment; he had one arm over the back of his seat and driving with breakneck speed backward down a street crowded with huge trucks. When a hail of bullets blew out the fractured glass of his windshield, he hunched his shoulder to protect his face as much as possible, but kept driving. Teal'c reached over the seat to grasp Vaughn by the wrists, relieving her of the gun in her shoulder-holster.

Jack saw the opening he was looking for; an open warehouse further down the street. He could see the street on the other side of the large building, through the open bay doors. He braked and slammed the gear into a new position.

The truck leaped forward, threading between loaded pallets and surprised workmen, narrowly avoiding getting skewered by a forklift. The square of sunlight grew as they came closer. Vaughn struggled in Teal'c's grasp, cursing.

"Crap!" Jack gave the steering wheel a sharp twist. The exit he'd been heading for was a raised platform, designed to receive cargo from semi-trucks; there was a five foot drop to the ground. If they had driven off the platform, he'd have shattered the axles of his truck at the very least. Through the open bay, however, Jack could see a pick-up ramp leading up to the platform. The closed door was no real obstacle, though it did very little to improve the paint job on Jack's poor old Ford.

"My insurance company is not going to like me," Jack growled as they flew down the ramp, shedding pieces of twisted metal and glass.

"Lunatic!" Vaughn screamed at him. She tugged to get her hands out of Teal'c's grasp. "Don't you know who I am? I'm the bloody chief of police!"

"Well, I'm a bloody colonel of the Air Force—and you've messed with the wrong team, sister!"

"Jack!" Daniel's voice demanded attention through the radio. "Jack, come in! Sam, I don't think it's working..."

O'Neill grabbed the handset. "Daniel? Can you hear me now?"

"I got him!" Daniel's excited voice filled the cabin as O'Neill bounced his truck over a curb and accelerated down the street. "Jack, where are you?"

"Commerce Way, warehouse district. We just took fire from a little ambush our police chief arranged for us..." Vaughn glared venomously at him. "We ducked 'em, but we're headed back into the fray."

"Wait for us, Jack! We'll come and back you up!"

"No waiting... 'Loth is down here somewhere..." They sailed past the back side of the warehouse where the ambush had been laid; the driver's side window shattered as a rain of bullets greeted them. Jack ducked while Teal'c fired the entire clip from Vaughn's gun to scatter the men.

Hammond's voice replaced Daniel's. "Colonel. Report!"

"Bullets! Trucks!" Jack shouted. "Double agents—oh my!" Jack ducked again as the rear windshield shattered, too. "Um... I think we've lost containment a little down here, General."

"So we're becoming aware. The other search teams are converging on your location—help is on the way. What happened to Chief Vaughn?"

"Teal's has her in hand, sir," O'Neill said. "If 'Loth is around here, I want to find her." Glaring over his shoulder at the tempest in his back seat, he added, "And I have a feeling that Ms. Vaughn will be of invaluable service."

tbc


	32. Chapter 32 Abyssus abyssum invocat

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Chapter 32: _Abyssus abyssum invocat_**

Even as her body was overcome, Morlothiel's awareness sharpened. She knew she was in a small chamber—no longer in the van with that small frightened rabbit-of-a-man—yet she knew she was still inside a conveyance, of some kind that she had not previously experienced. Beyond the shimmering metal skin, a vast darkness yawned; so much had her Othersight imparted to her. That, more than the stunning sound of the goa'uld shock-grenade, shook the Elf to the core of her being. She withdrew into her mind, shutting out the pain and the numbing darkness—a terrible wasteful emptiness like nothing she had known since her time as a prisoner in Tol Gaurthor, when she had watched the great battle between fair Lord Felegund and Sauron the Black, lord of wolves.

Confined within her own mind, Morlothiel relived that dark time. Blood and claws and the howls of the werewolves, the deep, numbing throb of the wing-beats of vampires and their piercing, shrieking song, and the quiet, desperate struggle in the pit. Her companions had been fed one at a time to the wolves for Sauron's amusement. She had been tossed into the breeding pits to be corrupted.

Many times in her long life had she faced death, but under that dark tower she had nearly lost herself, to a far more horrible and permanent fate than mere Death.

She had fought her way out of that pit and escaped, though the filth was easier to cleanse from her limbs than from her mind; for ever after at times, dark dreams would beat at the edges of her thoughts, though less in this later age than in those years leading up to the end of the First. Elves sleep not, but fall into waking dreams where their awareness is not lessened, but their minds sometimes focus on other things, and the long parade of yesterdays may unveil before their private eyes, and nothing is forgotten, no matter how dark or painful.

Those memories drove her quickly back to herself, and she became aware of her surroundings again. She was lying on a cold surface. The length of her sword was a comfort beneath her; she must have covered it with her body when she had fallen. Her fingers found the hilt again, and she smiled as she felt a tremor pass through the living blade like the purr of a content cat.

She opened her eyes and found herself peering through a curtain of her woven hair. She saw no one, but she knew she was not alone. Voices were sounding through the chamber, chattering in a sharp, guttural language. Another voice, softer but speaking in the same language, gave firm commands which seemed to be meeting quarrelsome resistance.

The man shouted, his demands interrupted by a grunt followed by an ominous gurgle.

Morlothiel knew death when she heard it.

Footsteps rang, and heavy boots appeared in her line of vision. She could smell the sweat of bloodlust on him, and as he slipped his toe under her shoulder, she rolled away from him with a graceful movement, bringing her sword up in a delicate lunge. His face showed surprise as he fell away from the length of steel that had pierced his armor as easily as paper.

The two other men in the room reacted quickly. They were armed with odd, heavy-looking staffs, but they swung them strangely to bring them to bear on the Elf. Morlothiel didn't wait to see what they expected to happen; she gained her feet and attacked. A man wielding a staff needed space to swing it—and more, it turns out, when it actually fired bolts of energy. A ball of red light singed the air where she had been, and by the size of the hole that appeared in the wall, she guessed that his intent was not peaceful restraint. She took out his legs with a sweep of her blade, already turning away to face her next opponent.

He was standing in a doorway, and he fired his weapon at her but the bolt struck his wounded companion instead. Morlothiel struck to disarm, cleaving the strange weapon in his hands.

The staff snapped with a shower of sparks. The man retained both halves skillfully, swinging them like cudgels as they circled one another. He was watching the Elf's blade, but she was studying him. He was heavily armored, like his companion had been, yet his movements were smooth and light; an experienced fighter. She looked into his eyes, where she saw murderous intent. She stepped back and tugged a knife from her belt, flinging it with accuracy.

Armor always has a weakness. The man clutched his face and fell back.

She turned around, expecting another attack. None came. She found another man, the one she had heard die as she awoke. He did not wear armor like the other two, but was clad in fabric like some of the men she had seen in the SGC. His shirt was soaked with blood; he had been stabbed through the heart. Morlothiel held a hand to his mouth and felt no breath. She could only guess at what disagreement had occurred between the men, but it had proved fatal for this one.

One of the other men was clearly dead; a large hole had been burned through his abdomen. The other still lived; having pulled her dagger out of his own eye, he lay bleeding and silent on the floor. Morlothiel removed all the things that looked like weapons from his reach.

She peered through the doorway into another chamber. This one was smaller, but one side had large windows open to the darkest night. Morlothiel was puzzled; she was sure she'd only been Dreaming for a few moments, but it seemed that the light of day had somehow fled.

Beneath the window was a table with many blinking lights, and there were two chairs facing the view. There was another door in the room, but it would not open to the pressure of her hands. She returned to the windows and looked out, trying to determine by the stars where the time had gone.

She knew then that something was very, very wrong. There was nothing outside the windows, no ground to show the fall of the starlight, nor was there so much as a rind of moon to greet her. Only an endless night with countless points of light… and far, far below a strange orb turned an impassive face away from her.

The floor seemed to fall away. Morlothiel had never experienced vertigo before; clumsily she caught the back of a chair to steady herself. Her head was whirling and her stomach filled with ice.

She had thought it the remembered nightmare… the numbing darkness she had sensed. Now she knew that it had been this abyss that called for the abyss in her mind.

She closed her eyes and searched her memory for the words of her friend O'Neill, who had once told her about the joys of traveling through the spaces between the stars. He had joked about mind-numbing tedium and melting ice cream, but there had also been a light of passion in his eyes as she spoke. She remembered how he had described one of the vessels he had traveled in. At the time, she had not understood much, but as she clung to the memory now, she recognized that this must be where she was—inside a space-traversing ship.

She also recalled O'Neill's favourite invocation when things were not proceeding according to plan.

"Crap."

The word was strange, but the sound of it and the memory of the man who so often spoke it brought her some measure of strength. Her vision cleared and the walls and floor stopped spinning around her.

She glanced back through the open doorway and sincerely hoped that the last man would not die.


	33. Chapter 33 Empty Handed

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings, chapter 33  
Empty Handed**

Operating under gunfire was something that Jack O'Neill was used to; the bullets whining through the cabin of his truck didn't faze him—'stay low and worry about it after you get hit' was a philosophy that had served him well through a long career of being shot at. He shook particles of safety glass out of his hair and drove.

Vaughn was cursing and writhing in the back seat, but Teal'c restrained her easily, even when a ricochet grazed a furrow in his massive arm; he ignored the trickle of blood as if it were nothing more to be concerned about than a mosquito bite. Vaughn finally stopped fighting him when a burst of machine gun fire chewed through the back of the cabin and narrowly missed her. She slipped down to the floorboards as far as she could go and stayed there.

"If those who attempted to ambush us are confederates of this woman, they seem unconcerned about keeping her alive," Teal'c observed.

"She'll probably be looking forward to a cyanide cocktail if she survives this." Jack bit off the words. "None of the others—hang on!—none of the others we've met in connection to this mess have managed to survive captivity for too long."

The sounds of gunfire were renewed, but the rain of bullets upon the Ford ceased. "Ah, that would be the cavalry," O'Neill murmured. "Thank you General Hammond!"

"O'Neill—is that not the van for which we have been searching?" The vehicle was ahead of them in the road, not far from an intersection.

"Right." O'Neill frowned as he braked some distance from the rear of the van. "There's some zip-ties in the glove box, T. Strap her down and cover me."

O'Neill opened his door and slid off of the bench seat in a fluid motion, the grip of his 9mm already warm in his palm. He could tell by the weight of the magazine that it was nearly full, but he had the time, so he ejected the magazine and checked his ammunition. He reloaded and chambered the round with a smooth, fluid motion. A few seconds later he heard Teal'c's door pop open. That was his signal to move.

The van was in the middle of the street, leaning drunkenly. Jack circled in, firearm leading. Teal'c flitted like a shadow around to the right side.

Jack could only assume that the guy who was in the van had once looked better(he had never run into Tuck when he had been alive) —but missing a right arm and part of his torso—well, it was an easy guess that this hadn't been the man's finest hour. Jack touched the throat briefly to confirm that the man was dead, but the grayish cast of his skin told him as much. He cast a more hopeful eye around for some sign of his missing friend.

He saw no evidence of Morlothiel in the cabin of the van—no evidence, in fact, of half of the cabin! He did see the closest thing to surprise that he'd ever witnessed on Teal'c's face as the big man surveyed the damage.

"O'Neill… this is **very** strange."

"Amen, Big Guy. What do you think did this? I've seen this kind of damage before… a ring transporter?" Jack offered his guess.

"Perhaps." Teal'c sounded doubtful. "It would have to be an unusually powerful unit—the average ring transporter would not have penetrated a metal structure like this. Crushed it, yes… but not incised. It is more likely that it was a devastating weapon of some kind."

" 'A devastating weapon'. Like, what? A laser? A death-ray? You've been watching too much Sci-Fi Network, T." Jack was trying to be sarcastic, but he managed only to sound angry. "There's no sign of her. Maybe she got out before—"

Teal'c reached down and picked up something from the wreck. He held it up for O'Neill's eyes.

It was a single lock of hair, braided neatly, severed cleanly, moist with blood. The beads woven into the hair were distinctly recognizable. "'Loth. She was here."

"Perhaps it was a ring transport—" Teal'c began, but O'Neill was already walking away, back toward his truck. There was a tension in the man's shoulders that informed Teal'c that an attempt at comforting words would not be welcome at this time.

Teal'c gently coiled the lock of hair and stowed it in a pocket. He had lived a long time and seen many wonders. He no longer believed in gods, but miracles happened everywhere. He hoped to see the bright, dangerous woman again, both for his own sake—for he was very fond of her—and for the sake of his friend, who he knew held himself responsible for the things she had suffered since coming to Earth.

xoxoxox

The response from Stargate Command—under the cover the National Guard—was swift and thorough. The entire area was locked down in record time, witnesses gathered and interviewed, and all evidence of the van and the ambush on O'Neill was removed and transported to Cheyenne Mountain to be investigated. All that was left behind were a few spackle-filled bullet holes and a whiff of ozone.

Of the men who had mounted the ambush, none could be found, although evidence of their presence had not been totally expunged before the SGC teams had arrived. The remains of the van driver and the much-subdued Tanya Vaughn were both taken into custody—one for the morgue and one for the brig.

Jack O'Neill returned to Cheyenne Mountain only after searching every inch of the area, to satisfy himself that Morlothiel wasn't lurking nearby. He was sure that if she had been near—if she had seen him—that she would have contacted him. There had been no sign of her beyond the lock of hair that Teal'c had found.

Finding a braid isn't the same as finding a body, O'Neill reminded himself. It wasn't proof that she'd been in the van when it had been… it was only proof that she'd been in there at one time.

He had searched, but he didn't feel satisfied; he was colder, grimmer, and something of the colors of the world seemed to have faded everywhere he looked. He had a pretty good grouch on by the time he got back to Cheyenne Mountain. He sent Teal'c to the infirmary to be treated for wounds received in battle—one bullet-graze and one Tanya-bite—and made his way to find General Hammond and give his report.

Hammond was in the briefing room with Daniel, Carter, and Jacob. Daniel and Carter were both talking rapidly and excitedly, overlapping and finishing each other's sentences. When O'Neill appeared on the staircase, their voices broke off.

O'Neill felt an uncharacteristic wave of self-consciousness. He hadn't wanted to come back without finding the elf; he felt guilty that he hadn't, and he felt it heavily as his team looked at him. And that made him even angrier.

"Does anyone have **_any_** good news?" he snapped. Hammond gave him a look, and Jack subsided—slightly—he shrugged with one shoulder and dropped his eyes.

Hammond nodded; it was as close to an apology as he would get from his proud colonel, and it was adequate under the circumstances. "We do. Major?" He gestured for everyone to be seated at the briefing table.

Sam Carter seemed to be bursting with excitement, and O'Neill braced himself for a barrage of technological gibberish. He knew that somewhere behind the babble, there were facts and useful things lurking, waiting to be translated. He picked up a pencil and dragged a notepad toward him, though he didn't bother to actually try to take notes.

Sam surprised him by being uncharacteristically succinct. "We had the van brought here and we've had time to examine it." She nodded to include Jacob and Daniel, and smiled, "Dad thinks he knows what happened."

"I am hoping from your bouncy disposition that it wasn't a death-ray-laser-from-Hell," Jack said, feeling his morose anger slipping away in the face of Sam's radiant expression.

"Not at all," Jacob said. "It was a transporter, similar to the ring transporter that you're familiar with from the goa'uld ships. This one is much more powerful, designed to be used in mining operations, to excavate naquadah and other resources. Kind of a goa'uld strip-mining machine. The vessels equipped with these have a very short range, and typically do not have weapons or cloaking devices… although this one obviously has the latter or you guys would have detected it long ago."

"Okay," Jack ventured cautiously, "_**Not**_ vaporized… that's good. Or good-ish, anyway. But it's a goa'uld for sure. That news is not good."

"Not necessarily." Daniel adjusted his glasses. "There is no direct evidence of a goa'uld being involved… just their technology. Maybe the ship was already on Earth. Remember Setesh? And Hathor?"

Jack winced. "Ah. Yeah. Thanks for the memories."

Jacob frowned at the archaeologist. "I can't imagine how anyone on Earth could have managed to operate a vessel of this kind without some knowledge of the goa'uld. Your point is well taken, Dr. Jackson, but I recommend that we don't rule out any possibilities. Without a ship of our own, we can't hope to find such a vessel if it is in orbit. I tried to get one, but there aren't any Tok'ra ships within range of Earth at this time."

"The Asgard—"

"We tried, Jack," Daniel interrupted gently. "We tried to contact them, but there's been no response."

"We have a larger problem than this, people," Hammond rumbled from his end of the briefing table. "There is a leak in the SGC… an unknown number of conspirators right here in our own backyard. We need to find out who they are and what they want."

"What they want is obvious, I would think," Daniel said. "Morlothiel. But why—?" he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose to drive back a headache.

"I'm not so sure that she was the primary target," Jacob said, rubbing his lower lip as he pondered. "From what I read on the report—Sam showed it to me earlier—I would guess that _you_ were the target, Jack. You and your team."

"And you think that they took 'Loth to draw us out." O'Neill had been thinking something along the same lines. "The ambush."

"Exactly. I think we'll be hearing from them sooner or later."

"What about Vaughn? She's obviously involved," Carter injected. "She could be persuaded to talk."

O'Neill let out a dry chuckle. "The trick is going to be keeping her alive. I've got an idea about that, General… but I'm not sure how you're going to like it," he added, as his eyes slid toward Jacob.

The older man gave him an open, puzzled look, and Daniel nearly choked on his sip of coffee. "What!? You're suggesting handing her over to the Tok'ra? You, Jack?"

"Me Jack," O'Neill agreed. "She'd be safe from her own people off-world. Heck, we don't have to take her to the Tok'ra homeworld… just somewhere that isn't here. What do you think, General?"

"I don't have a better alternative, but it won't be easy getting clearance for this. Sending someone off-world against their will—I'm not sure the President will stand for such an extreme measure."

"It's that, or lose our one lead to whoever is behind this. And our one lead to find 'Loth." He opened his hand and let the pencil he'd been fiddling with roll onto the table—broken neatly into eight pieces.


	34. Chapter 34 The Upper Hand

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Chapter 34: The Upper Hand**

The jaffa opened his eyes slowly—not from weakness, but by craft. He knew he was not alone, but he was sure that the creature that had killed his fellow jaffa believed that he was also dead. He knew his _prim'ta_ would heal him—his God had promised it—so he need only be patient. If she believed him still dead, the creature was bound to let her guard down.

He opened his eyes no more than a crack, but the stealthy effort was wasted; Morlothiel was watching him, waiting for him to wake. When she saw the glitter of light from his eyes, quickly hooded, she reached out from where she squatted and slapped him across the face.

It didn't hurt, but it was loud. He grunted in surprise, eyes flying open to stare angrily. He tried to move, but he found she had bound his arms so that they were spread wide, away from his body. His feet were bound, too, also spread apart. He was in a totally vulnerable position, and she was crouching between his feet, one arm laid on top of her knees, watching him darkly. Her other arm was behind her back.

He strained against the cords that bound him for several minutes before he growled at her in his most menacing voice, "Release me, or my God will destroy you."

The female creature did not seem intimidated. Perhaps she was not intelligent enough to understand. He leaned as far forward as he could, spittle flying as he shouted, "I am a soldier of Yaamat! He will devour your soul, if you have one. Release me or suffer the consequences! Soon I will have the strength to free myself, and then I shall kill you in his name!"

"Your god," Morlothiel's voice was a sweet melody of menace. "Your god is an insect, and I will crush it in my hand," she brought her arm around and showed him what she had been hiding from him. A grayish-green goauld larva writhed in her grip, oozing slime. It emitted a high-pitched squeal as Morlothiel flexed her fingers lightly.

"Sacrilege! How dare you… how dare you… my _prim'ta!_" the jaffa's breath became labored, as he believed that he would die now surely. He couldn't take his eyes off the symbiote; she could crush it so easily in her cruel hands! "The child of God! Return it! Return it to me!"

"I didn't take it from you," the elf woman said. She held the thing at arms length, regarding it with curious distaste. "The worm in your belly is dead. This one I caught wriggling free from a corpse." The gouald snapped at her with short, translucent fangs, lunging fruitlessly at her from her hand. "I nearly ground it beneath my heel—but then I recalled my friend Teal'c."

Morlothiel held the symbiote so that the jaffa could see nothing else. "My friend Teal'c possesses one of these. He told me about it, and how a jaffa and a worm will die in time if they are parted from one another. I don't know how long that time is, but by the look of things, neither of you has much more."

The symbiote squeaked weakly. "See how it begs?" Morlothiel's reasonable tone carried a taunt to the jaffa's ear. "Your god begs for life. How is it that I should fear it… or you? Tell me your name," she demanded firmly.

"Harq't," the jaffa grunted.

"Harq't, if you swear to me by the power of your own name that you will obey me, I will place this worm within you. If you renege on that oath, I will slay you both and you shall be cursed."

"I obey none but my God," Harq't snarled stubbornly.

"Does your god order you to live? To do what you must to survive?"

"So long as it does not contradict His will," Harq't allowed, his eyes still on the symbiote.

"And did he make his will that you should die here? That you should not parley with me?"

Harq't was silent for a few minutes before he said, "He did not say so."

"Before I do this, I will make something clear to you. I am stronger and faster than you, and I am unharmed. Obey my requests and you will live to serve your gods again. I swear to you by my name that you will be spared."

The jaffa gasped as the goauld larva squirmed out of her fingers and into his gut. "By your name… what is…?"

"I am Morlothiel. Conjure with my name and I will cut your throat. Now speak your oath!"

Harq't didn't know what she meant by 'conjuring' but he promised to obey her-- and to his own surprise, he found that meant every word.

~~~tbc


	35. Chapter 35 Elves in Space

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
Chapter 35: Elves in Space**

It was completely by chance that Jack O'Neill was in the Gate Control room when the broadcast came through. He had been supervising the return of SG-7 from escorting Jacob and his new friend Tanya Vaughn to the Alpha Site. General Hammond was busy up in his office with the Red Phone and had asked Jack to stand in for him in case there was a report that could not wait for a later debriefing. Jack was convinced that the General was just trying to keep him busy; he was going a little crazy, not being able to do anything to find his missing friend.

The mission proved to be routine; O'Neill was fidgeting against the back wall while Sgt. Harriman conveyed to the newly returned team their instructions and directed them toward their post-mission medical exams. They were just clearing the Gate Room when Walter suddenly clasped his headset, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Colonel O'Neill? We've got an incoming transmission..." He touched a dial and Morlothiel's voice flowed between pops and crackles.

"Hear me, Jack O'Neill."

All activity in the room ceased. Jack kicked off from the wall and vaulted across the room, seizing the back of Walter's chair. The little man jumped in surprise, his headset flying off. He groped for it clumsily.

"'Loth! Where are you?" Jack demanded.

There was a pause before she answered. "It is good to hear your voice, O'Neill. According to Harq't, we are hovering above your world."

"Harq't? Is he the one who took off with you..."

"No. He is jaffa, formerly a soldier for Yaamat. He and I... have reached an understanding."

Harriman's snatched up the telephone and began to speak in a low, urgent voice. Jack could hear the voice on the other end exclaim in surprise, but he concentrated on Morlothiel's report. "Yaamat, eh? That's a new one. What is your situation? Will your 'new friend' bring you home?"

Another longer pause. "It could be done."

"Do it! Come home now!"

"If I do, I will leave this man in a tenuous position. He is injured and alone. It would hearten me if there is something that could be done for him. He fears retaliation from his former lord, and I have pledged his safety."

"I think we can do something about that. Can he ring us up?"

"Yes, but be warned: the location of this vessel is known to our enemies. Also, I think it wise to inform you that my current degree of freedom is due in great part to a disagreement between the rogues conspiring against us. Blood has been spilled here."

"Really!"

Walter grabbed a second phone, still holding his line to Hammond, and began talking into the second line while typing one-handed. He caught O'Neill's eye and said, "NORAD's got them, sir. They must have turned off the cloaking device… we have the coordinates."

Sam Carter appeared in time to hear Walter's report, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c a few steps behind her, Daniel toting a thick book under his arm. Carter went straight to the computer console, her fingers flying on the keyboard.

Daniel straightened his glasses and peered over Jack's shoulder. "What was that name? Yam--what?"

Walter looked up and over his shoulder at the archeologist. "Yaamat." Daniel nodded and began leafing through his book.

"I want you out of there, 'Loth." O'Neill said, leaning in toward the microphone. "There's other ways to track this YoYoMat… I don't want you risking yourself any further. I'd make it an order if I thought it would help, but… please, just come back."

Everyone could hear the smile in the silence before Morlothiel's response. "My heart is not large enough to contain all the desire that I feel to set foot again on solid ground. Still, I cannot abandon my location without losing honor. Can you promise that your warlords will not imprison or execute this jaffa?"

Teal'c stepped forward, his voice a gentle rumble in Jack's ear. "Let me be transported to the ship," he murmured. "Perhaps I can also speak to this Harq't. His actions show that his heart is one that might hear the truth about the false gods."

Jack covered the mike with his hand. "T, buddy… you know I'm all for passing out pamphlets for the Free Jaffa…" O'Neill began to say, but Teal'c interrupted him.

"I can also take over the controls of the ship and transport myself and Morlothiel home, should my negotiations fail."

O'Neill blinked. "Good point. But we'll both go." Jack raised his voice on the last point, catching Daniel and Carter with his eyes. "If this YamHat tries to pick a fight, I'm not leaving you and 'Loth alone on the front lines."

"Jack!" Daniel tugged on Jack's sleeve. "I've got to come along. I've never heard of Yaamat.... there are no references to him in here at all. If I could learn more about him…"

"I've got to go too, Sir," Carter said sharply. When O'Neill looked at her, she stammered a little, "Um, because…"

"Because we're a team, Carter," Jack said, grinning. "We'll go together and bring 'Loth home… and if this snakehead tries anything, he'll get all four barrels!"

Removing his hand from the mike, he said, "Okay, 'Loth. You have my word that Harty will be safe. General Hammond will need to be briefed…" Walter was nodding vigorously and pointing at the phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder; the General was on the other line of the telephone, listening to everything, and was apparently willing to give consent.

"Time is short," Morlothiel said, "our words are being overheard. To wait too long will be to invite a trap."

Jack made his decision. "We've got a 'go', people. Sergeant, brief the General." Walter tried to salute briskly, but only managed to knock his headset off again. When he bent to pick it up, he dropped the phone.

Jack stepped aside to avoid becoming entangled. "'Loth, we'll be ready in ten. We'll be beside your favourite rock on Cheyenne Mountain." Jack motioned to Carter to transmit the coordinates.

"Aye, Jack. I understand. We shall collect you with the magic rings."

Carter hesitated. "Colonel, this is a terrible risk! If Yaamat or anyone else intercepts this… we could be setting ourselves up for…" She subsided at O'Neill's glare and sent the information.

"This may be a showdown, people," Jack growled as he swept toward the exit, "Follow me and don't forget to bring your favorite tools of diplomacy...

"Preferably of the semi-automatic variety!"


	36. Ch 36 Jaffas and Ninjas and Elves, O My!

**Not Quite the Lord of the Rings  
****Chapter 36: ****Jaffas and Ninjas and Elves, O My!**

"Well met, my friends."

Jack O'Neill looked around at the place where they'd been transported; it was different from what they'd come to expect from Goa'uld decorating themes. Gone the ubiquitous gold interior, the Egyptian symbols. Instead, the panels within the cargo hold were scrolled with blue and black on the gray-green material. The effect was depressingly dull. At least the gold-tone was cheery, O'Neill reflected, for all of its cheesiness.

All this he took in an instant; his eyes were drawn to the figures standing on the edge of the room. He signaled his team and they spread out, stepping outside of the ring platform.

"Morlothiel." He stopped five paces away, looking at the jaffa standing next to the elf.

"O'Neill." She made the sound of his name into the warmest greeting. "This is Harq't." The jaffa was eyeing Jack right back, and the P90 that he was cradling in his hands.

Teal'c approached Harq't, commanding the jaffa's attention. "_Tek'ma'tek_."

"You are the _shol'va_."

Jack clicked his tongue in disapproval. "We don't like that word."

Teal'c was unruffled. "I am no traitor. It is the Jaffa who have been betrayed, by those who falsely claim to be gods." He spread his hands, indicating himself. "If they were true, would I live to be a Free Jaffa?"

Daniel Jackson was already examining the walls, running his hands over the patterns inscribed there. "This place is old, Jack. I mean… _really old_."

"Older than Ancient, old?" asked O'Neill, still turning around this way and that.

"Not that old. I think this is—"

"Hang on, there, Daniel. Let's clear this place first." They searched the ship quickly, finding no more than the dead.

Sam Carter returned from the engine room, looking bemused. "The engines are in a state, sir. Very neglected. It's a miracle that they're working."

"Are they going to keep working? At least for a while?"

"Let me put it this way, Sir: Don't sneeze."

"Oh boy."

O'Neill joined Jackson, examining the corpses where they had been composed along the side of the cargo bay. Jack prodded one with the toe of his boot. "This guy looks like he belongs on Wall Street."

"Except for this," Daniel said grimly. While looking for ID on the body, he'd found something else. Peeling back the edge of the man's clothes, he exposed his abdomen to reveal the X carved there; the lips of flesh were slightly parted. Jack swallowed and managed not to lose his lunch. Daniel wiped her hands on his fatigues.

"A jaffa? Good God. Does he—" Jack gestured at the corpse, "you know. Have a, um… a roommate?"

"How should I know? I'm not sticking my hand in—"

"Teal'c… um. Can you tell?"

Teal'c came close, squatting beside the body. "I sense nothing. If he once possessed a larval goa'uld, it is now either dead or gone."

"I hope dead, but we'll let Medical figure it out. Until then, treat the bodies MOP." O'Neill spoke to Harq't. "Did you know he was a jaffa?"

Harq't looked puzzled. "Are not you all?"

"Not in the traditional sense, no." Jack shuddered. "Though not for want of trying on some snakeheads' part." He absently smoothed the fabric of his flack jacket over his own stomach.

O'Neill turned to Morlothiel. "And now, missy… you got some 'splaining to do. This was not part of the tour."

Morlothiel regarded him levelly. "Any reproach you feel toward me for my actions, I understand. I was over-confident and hasty. But it is not in my nature to ignore a threat, to myself or to those I care about."

"Oh, you're not in trouble. Not from me or Hammond, anyway. We can appreciate the strategic necessity of getting neck-deep in trouble. Because of you, we know about this place now," he gestured up and around at the ship. "However, I'd prefer if you took some back-up along next time. That loner-ninja-elf stuff don't fly so well out here in The Big Bad Universe."

The Elf woman ducked her head, a gesture that might have been interpreted as an apologetic bow, but in truth she was trying to hide a smile. She looked up at O'Neill and said, "What is a ninja?"

Jack closed his eyes as if praying for patience.


End file.
